One Night Stand
by Leelu's skittles
Summary: After a night of extensive drinking, blurred faces and groping Harry wakes up in a previously unknown location. Drinking, he thought, should be banned. Slash. No longer a two shot.
1. Harry

**Fandom**: _Harry Potter_

**Title: **_Harry_

**Words**: _414_

**Warnings/Disclaimer**: _This story contains homosexual insinuations. If that offends or disturbs you in any way, nick off. I don't own Harry Potter, because small children wouldn't be allowed to read (or watch) it if I did._

Harry bit his lip to stop the hiss of pain escaping his mouth, pausing to see if his one night stand woke up. He sighed in relief and continued to get dressed when there was no sound from the elder man lying in the bed. Harry searched around for his jeans, they were the only pair that actually fitted him properly, and walked quietly around the bed to retrieve the item of clothing. He pulled them up his pale, scarred legs and then started the search for his socks and shoes. He found one shoe near the door, the other jogger at the foot of the bed. Harry picked them up, holding them in his hands.

It was a stupid idea to put the shoes on before he made his escape, going barefoot allowed a degree of silence that was not present with hard soled shoes. Harrys sharp green eyes then searched for his socks. The socks were odd, one bright yellow and the other and deep royal blue, he'd thought it funny, as had his fuck. But he didn't see how he could've possibly _lost_ the bright pair of odd socks. And it wasn't even like the room was a mess. Everything was perfect, nothing out of place.

Unless you counted the clothes that the man had once been wearing, now strewn all over the floor by an impatient Harry. But Harry had, somehow, managed to lose those bloody socks. Harry quickly glanced the room, swearing as he saw the time. It was five thirty, and he was supposed to be going to the Weasley Burrow at seven. Except, he had no idea where he was. All that he knew was that at some point the night before (or maybe it had been this morning) he'd been taken home (not his) and been thoroughly ploughed into the mattress.

It had been thoroughly enjoyable, and Harry had thought his partner was a _god_. Until Harry woke up (sober) and realised exactly who it was that had been showering praise upon. So Harry had one and a half hours to get to Surry, England, from somewhere in Wales. How was it possible that Harry knew where he was if he'd been drunk when he was brought back to the house of his one night stand? Well, almost the entire wizarding community knew where the man lived, but not his exact location.

After all, Lucius Malfoy couldn't have _common_ people knocking on his door, could he?


	2. Lucius

**Fandom**: Harry Potter

**Title: **_Lucius_

**Words**: 605

**Warnings/Disclaimer**:_ This story contains homosexual insinuations. If that offends or disturbs you in any way, nick off. I don't own Harry Potter, because small children wouldn't be allowed to read (or watch) it if I did._

Lucius Malfoy was tired. Many things made him tired; a night full of cruciatus curses aimed at him from Lord Voldemort, business meetings, reading owls from Wizenmagot members, talking to Minister Fudge, and hurting children (because hurting children made him unable to sleep.) But not one of those was the real reason he was tired. He was tired because he had just spent almost the entirety of the night having hot sex with Harry Bloody Potter.

Lucius hadn't meant to have sex with him, in fact he'd just wanted to capture him and deliver him to his Lord. But the child was drunk, and Lucius hated harming children. It just didn't sit right with him, as a father. And is not like a drunk sixteen year old would remember what happened. So he'd planned to lead the child to a public place where a concerned member of the public would help him to his house. Except that didn't happen.

It turns out that Harry is a very talkative, flirty drunk. And had a knack for buying people drinks. So Lucius had ended up drinking a bit too much, and hadn't really minded when Harry had slid around the booth they were sitting at, and he did absolutely nothing to stop the green eyed teen when he went in for a pash. In fact the elder man had encouraged the behaviour by placing a supporting hand on the teens lower back.

Harry had started to grind down, and Lucius' sensible side took over. Unfortunately, the sensible side was also drunk on Black Sambuca and Contreau. So its idea was to stop the exhibitionalist behaviour and just take the boy back to his house. And Lucius agreed with the idea wholeheartedly. Soon the boy was naked underneath him, writhing and moaning and screaming. His legs were wrapped around Lucius' waist, back arched and head thrown back as he begged for Lucius to take him harder and faster.

Hours later they finally finished and Harry rolled off Lucius, although one of the blonde mans hands stayed on the small hip. Harry curled into Lucius' side and they both fell into a blissful, unaware, still drunk post-coital sleep.

Lucius was awoken by the wards on his front door alerting him to the fact that someone, who was not his wife or son, was leaving the building. Lucius rushed over to the window, only half aware of the fact that he was devoid of his usual bedclothes, and looked down over the grounds.

He spotted a figure hastily retreating from the house, and Lucius was surprised to note that the figure's shoes were being carried. Lucius followed the figure with his molten silver eyes until he could no longer sight him. He walked back to his bed tiredly, wondering who it was that was retreating from his house so hastily and whether they belonged to his wife or son, until he spotted one bright yellow sock. The sock was folded in between the silk sheets that were lying crumpled at the foot of his bed and his memory returned, though it was slightly fuzzy.

He cursed as he realised that Harry Potter had just escaped from his house, and could probably remember everything. Lucius groaned as he fell back onto his bed, sending a glare to the blue sock that he could distinctly remember pulling off as fast as he could before removing the teens underwear with his teeth. Lucius grimaced. He would not be happy when he woke up again, but right now he was still half asleep and allowed to marvel at how good a fuck Harry Potter had been.


	3. Hickey

**Fandom**: Harry Potter

**Title: **_Hickey_

**Words**: 553

**Warnings/Disclaimer**:_ This story contains homosexual insinuations. If that offends or disturbs you in any way, nick off. I don't own Harry Potter, because small children wouldn't be allowed to read (or watch) it if I did._

_**AN:**__ Okay, so much for a two shot. You see, it wasn't supposed to be anything after the second one. End. Finite. But the I had an idea for a story about it; but I couldn't find a way to link the scens together in a coherent way. And then a friend says; "just make it a series of drabbles that tell the story." And so I did. Am. Enjoy. _

_Happy Australia Day Eve!_

"Wotcher, Harry." Harry tried to smile at Tonks, he really did. But not even her bright blue hair, puffed out like a lions mane, could cheer him up right now. Because his head was pounding and all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Last night, during his escape from Malfoy Manor, he had been fuelled by adrenaline and hadn't even realised that he'd had a hand over. Harry had gotten on the Knight bus and felt his heart rate slow down again as he listened to Stan ramble on. He was in bed before he the hang over could make itself known.

But now there was no adrenaline to keep him going, there was just the cheery voice of Mr. Weasley as he exclaimed over everything he saw, the rough voice of Mad Eye, Tonks' exuberant gestures and Shaklebolt's silent presence. All together, the four wizards were making him uncomfortable because he could still remember the way that he'd begged and pleaded the night before.

Harry looked back down to the floor, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He was quite sore, he wasn't sure if the soreness was normal but imagined it was. After all it hadn't been gentle sex and Lucius was very large. Harrys head shot up and he gasped, drawing all attention towards him. "What is it Harry?" Mr Weasley asked, concerned, and Harry reddened. "Nothing, Mr. Weasley. I just remembered that I hadn't grabbed my things."

And Harry raced up the stairs because he could not look at anyone right now. He had just realised that not only had he disobeyed Dumbledores orders and gone out, unescorted, but he'd given his virginity to Lucius fucking Malfoy. Who was practically a role model for all Death Eater wannabe's. Harry stopped and took a deep breathe. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if he thought about it rationally. So Harry took a deep breath.

The breath helped when he dove for his pillow and screamed into it.

Ten minutes later there was a crash from outside his door, before Tonks fell into his room. "Hey Tonks." Harry said, grabbing his tings and shoving them into his trunk. "So, have you had fun?" She asks and Harry freezes. "Had fun? What? It wasn't me!" He said quickly, eyes wide as they darted around the room to try and find somewhere to hide. Tonks gave a quick laugh.

"I meant here, at you relatives. But if you've done something naughty, I'd love to hear." She said, giving him a wink, and Harry exhaled. "Oh. No, I think I'll keep this to myself." He said and she shrugged. "Whatever floats your boat." She said and Harry shook his head. "Nothing floats my boat!" He said and she laughed again, louder and longer this time. "My, my. Looks like you aren't as innocent as everyone thinks!"

And Harry realised that he was really, really bad a being guilty about something. In, what, two comments thank weren't related to his late night escapade and he'd already outed himself. "But don't worry, Harry. I won't tell." She said, walking towards him. She lifted her wand. "But you might want to cover up that hickey." She said and Harry looked confused. "But, the hickeys aren't on my neck…" He trailed off at Tonks' loud laughter.


	4. Table

**Fandom**: _Harry Potter_

**Title: **_Table_

**Words**: _563_

**Warnings/Disclaimer**:_ This story contains homosexual insinuations. If that offends or disturbs you in any way, nick off. I don't own Harry Potter, because small children wouldn't be allowed to read (or watch) it if I did._

_Bah! I have tried and tried to write more 'chapters' from Lucius' POV, but the damn bastard refuses to cooperate. Everything is just too…corny and overdone and none of it makes for good reading. So, I've decided, that the chapters coming from Lucius' POV will be few. It shall be mainly Harry's embarrassment. Not that that's a bad thing. _

_**--**_

Harry laughed appropriately as Ron told him something that was funny. Or, Harry imagined it was funny. He hadn't exactly been able to concentrate on anything his best mate said. They were all at the burrow, as Grimmauld Place was known to Kreacher, who was loyal to the Blacks. Narcissia and Bellatrix, that is. The headquarters had been raided, fortunately it had been empty. Sirius was still in Hogwarts, recovering from his brush with the Veil and, when not in use, no important documents were kept there.

Although Buckbeak was, to the horror of Hagrid, Sirius and Harry, killed.

But none of that seemed very important at the moment, even Ron yakking constantly on one side, Tonks making vague allusions to his innocence on the other (with the twins the only one to guess what she was talking about – their annoyingly perceptive gutter minds had decided it would be fun to join in to) and the general cheer of the Burrow wasn't doing anything to lift his mood.

Harry had thought, in his naivety, that the soft lounge at the Dursleys was painful to his abused arse. But he'd not thought of the wooden chairs at the Weasleys table. And, Merlin, every time he winced or moved Tonks would laugh and the Twins would say something – or vice versa- but that wasn't the reason for his abysmal mood.

The reason was such unpleasant company was that he could not stop thinking about Lucius Malfoy. Or, more specifically, he couldn't stop thinking about how a man (older than his own father would be) like Lucius Malfoy was so good in bed. Not that Harry has had any other experiences. But what he could remember made him think that other experiences might, just maybe, not be as good.

All the details of the night still hadn't come back to him but, as Mrs. Weasley offered Harry another sausage, Harry remembered that they actually hadn't made it to the bedroom for the first couple of times. They'd reached the manor, but neither could wait for a bed to appear.

Harry was ashamed to remember that his first time had not been in a bed, but bent over the Malfoy dining table. One hand had been on his hip, and the other on his upper back, keeping his face against the mahogany. His legs had been spread as much as possible, with his jeans not even at his knees. And Harry couldn't look Mrs. Weasley in the eyes as he refused the sausage, especially not when the only actual thoughts in his head were how the table at the Malfoys was a lot smoother and he was sure, that if he had a choice, he'd rather be fucked on the expensive mahogany rather than the coarse hard wood.

And then Fred made a seemingly innocent about whether Harry preferred sausages or bread rolls and Harry, slightly emboldened by the memory of a panting breath in his ear –praising how tight he was- took the sausage and bit the end off. He smiled innocently, flutteringly his eyes.

"I rather prefer sausages. More filling."

And Tonks fell off her chair laughing, while the twins were in shock. For a few seconds, at least, before they started to laugh as well. Harry resolutely ignored Ron asking him what was so funny, and tried to keep the blush from his cheeks.


	5. Bruise

**Fandom**: _Harry Potter_

**Title**: _Bruise_

**Words**: _511_

**Pairing: **_Lucius/Harry_

**Warnings/Disclaimer**:_ This story contains SLASH!YAOI!. If that offends or disturbs you in any way, nick off. I don't own Harry Potter, because small children wouldn't be allowed to read (or watch) it if I did. Plot is, I'm pretty sure, all of my own delusions. _

_Large hands tightened on his hips, marking the pale flesh easily. Harrys back arched, fingers digging into the chest of the blonde beneath him. Every thrust seemed to penetrate him deeper, each thrust slamming into Harrys already abused prostate. They sped up, Harrys soft voice loud as he pleaded for something he wasn't quite sure of. Lucius groaned low in the back of his throat and he gripped the hips of Harry even harder. If Harry could think of anything beyond – god, right there. Please, please, please – then he would've sworn that Lucius was touching bone. Harry threw his head back, crying out as he came all over Lucius' chest. A few seconds later, a few more thrusts, and Lucius gave a sharp intake of breath as he came. _

_Harry slumped forward head hitting the chest of his lover, those same hands moving from his hips to encircle him in a hug. Harry sank into sleep, not comprehending the words the blonde aristocrat said. _

Harrys eyes flickered open, waking as his dream self fell into slumber. He sat up and grimaced, he could feel his boxers sticking to himself with a substance that Harry was determined not to think about. He stood up, making sure that Ron was asleep, and headed for the bathroom with another pair of underwear.

He reached the bathroom and locked the door, stripping the soiled garment off and throwing it in the dirty clothes basket. Never before had he been so glad for magic. If the clothes went in the basket with anything unsavoury on it, the unsavoury substance was removed. Harry would never be able to look Molly Weasley in the eye again if she came across his semen coated boxers. Harry tried to think of something else as he cleaned himself, but it was impossible. He glared at his hips.

The bruises were still there. It had been weeks since he had fled Malfoy Manor in the early hours of the morning, but the bruises were still there. The dreams that Harry experienced, he blamed entirely on the marks that lingered on his body. _If the bruises weren't there_, he would tell himself firmly, _then I would have no reason to ever think on that night again_.

But sometimes he would try and fit his small hands into the large bruises on his hips, and pretend that it was Lucius. He would gently poke the finger shaped bruises on his inner thighs and wonder. Harry was also very curious to see if he had left any lingering marks on the Lord Malfoy. Harry could imagine himself running his hands over small bruises, love bites, his lips following shortly. It was those such times that he knew that, even if the bruises had faded, he would still be thinking about that night.

But then he would remember that he was currently in The Burrow. That he was the Boy-Who-Lived and Lucius Malfoy was _Lucius Malfoy_. He would push the thoughts away and, for a day or two, he would go back to blaming the bruises.


	6. Obsession

**Fandom**: _Harry Potter_

**Title**: _Obsession_

**Words**: _514_

**Pairing: **_Lucius/Harry_

**Warnings/Disclaimer**:_ This story contains SLASH!YAOI!. If that offends or disturbs you in any way, nick off. I don't own Harry Potter, because small children wouldn't be allowed to read (or watch) it if I did. Plot is, I'm pretty sure, all of my own delusions. _

Lucius glared at his reflection in the mirror. Well, at his chest at least. Weeks had passed and, no matter how he had tried to put the incident from his mind, it kept crawling back in. His best Occulmency shields could do nothing when memories of that night were sprawled so carelessly across his own skin. His chest contained the majority of the evidence though. Every time he saw those tiny, finger shaped bruises he was disgusted.

He had prided himself on the fact that although Narcissia had taken plenty of lovers, he had not yet descended to infidelity – though it was common practice in arranged wizarding marriages. But those bruises, and the slightly red lines from the teens fingernails, reminded him that he was now no better than Narcissia. But what was worse than that – what made him worse that _her_ – was the fact that he'd sunk that low for someone who was little more than a child. The size of the bruises was proof enough of that.

His hands had been so small, but that matched the rest of him. Everyone always praised his lithe body, that of a seeker. Lucius let a smirk curl his lips as he dressed. He bet that none of them had every felt the rewards of having that petite, lithe seekers body pressed against them. He knew that that delightfully flexible body had never entertained another. Lucius found that he rather liked the way those small hands had curled around him, the way that inexperienced mouth had sucked.

He also found that just thinking about someone else discovering the things he had, anybody else hearing the way Harry sounded when he moaned, made him incredibly angry. Furious. He felt as though he wanted to rip somebody's head off –the muggle way.

And that was the worst part of it all.

Lucius, though he had finally sunk to his wife's level and taken a lover (even though it had only been for one night), would have that night repeated every night until he died if it was in his power to do so. Lucius had awoken once during the time between the two of them falling asleep and actually waking up because of the wards. He could remember the weight of the teen saviour half lying on top of him, and the way his unruly hair had tickled. But most of all he could remember the feeling of contentment he had felt when he realised that he was not alone.

For some reason his mind had been deluding him into thinking that Harry Potter cared about him and it was driving him crazy to know that that teen – _his teen_ – could be out there giving that same sense of contentment to others. The feelings of jealousy bubbled in his gut, and he could see where this was heading. Obsession. Longing. _Need_. Obsession.

Ever since that night Harry Potter had belonged to him. Lucius nodded to himself as he left his room. And it would only be a matter of time until the boy came to realise that.


	7. Those jeans

**Fandom:** _Harry Potter_

**Title:** _Those Jeans_

**Words:** _420_

**Pairing:**_ Lucius/Harry_

**Warnings/Disclaimer:** The normal slash, remembering of sexual situations, me not owning the cannon (like I'd want that, but the money would be nice) and I'm pretty sure that's it. But I might've just become numb – like my brain after being rick rolled twenty gazillion times. Someone find Rick Astley and shoot that fucker in the head.

Hermione was, Harry felt sure, too god damned smart and nosy for her own bloody good. And, Harry was also sure, that nothing good had ever come from people listening to Ron's ideas. Ron had suggested that they all have a 'party' at the Burrow. The red headed teen felt sure that a party would lift the mood of the burrow, because he didn't like it when everyone looked so _down_ and acted all _suspicious_.

Harry was, surprisingly, joined in his nervous laughter by Hermione.

And, as it was a party, Harry had worn a pair of tight jeans with a dress shirt. They had been birthday presents for himself, so he felt like wearing them to a party. And they were _those jeans_. Those jeans that had had large hands roughly unbutton and unzip them. Those jeans that had slid slowly down his legs as he was pressed into a wall on a set of magnificent stairs as he was fucked hard. Those jeans that had reached his ankles as the two of them reached Lucius' luxurious bedroom. Those jeans that had been flung at a corner of the room so hastily that Harry had spent over five minutes searching for them in the darkness before dawn the next morning.

Those jeans that, to Harry, represented one night of stupidity – _bliss_ – and irresponsibility – _fuck, those hands_ – _and God what Harry wouldn't do to hear Lucius whisper wicked things into his ear again_ – and utter idiocy.

Those jeans that made Hermione raise an eyebrow at him, and start enquiring about his summer activities and how long he'd had the jeans for. That glint in her eyes told Harry that, even though she was asking, she already knew _exactly_ the last time he'd worn the jeans. With a quirk of her eyebrow, the toss of her head, Harry was reluctantly summoned into a secluded corner of the room. With a silly grin on her face she leant towards Harry.

"Last time I saw you in _those_ jeans, you were attached to a certain blonde purebloods neck, while _his_ hands were down _your_ pants." And then, calmly, she walked away leaving a flabbergasted Harry in the corner. When he regained him composure (so he wouldn't either run to his room and huddle under the blankets or fall at her feel and beg her not to tell anyone) Harry chased after her to engage her in a polite conversation. How had she seen him, anyway?

Harry knew he shouldn't have worn _those jeans_.


	8. Completely and utterly outclassed

**Fandom:** _Harry Potter_

**Title:** _Completely and utterly outclassed_

**Words:** _415_

**Pairing:**_ Lucius/Harry_

**Warnings/Disclaimer:** This chapter is, actually clean of anything but Hermione picking on Harry. But really, it's his own fault. And, no, I do not own Harry Potter. But, oh, the fun we would all have if I did.

And I would like to thank all my reviewers: _Serpentsrose, Sherrri, Maloanne, Serentiyselena, Bablefisk, Krystaluvstwilight, Deby Magid, Darkest Desire, Flying Chrissy, Celestialuna, Dances withhippogriffs, Catalytic Angel, Momocolady, PC Vampy, RavenEcho, Steph_ and especially _Sagerun Yagami_ who has reviewed almost every chapter.

It's like alcohol for the soul – i.e makes me giddy, and gets me writing.

But I swear I will never write out their names again because, Jesus! It took me ages! Well, not that long, but I am, at the moment, ill! And my eyes are all blurry and there are double letters and triple letters and names all over the place. So, for the sake of my sanity, though I appreciate my reviewers greatly, I will just mention them as a whole.

"Hermione?" Harry asked, a sly little smirk on his face as he sat down next to her on the comfortable couch in the living room of the burrow.

"Yes Harry?" She had her head in a book, but Harry knew he would get her attention soon enough. Harry's eyes darted over to where Ron was sitting, playing himself in chess. His smirk expended to a smile.

"How did you know, exactly, how I left the club? I don't remember seeing you there. The only time I saw anything like your hair, said person was not in the most innocent of positions." She looked up from the book, rolling her eyes. Harry wasn't sure whether that look was a good thing or a bad thing. Then that bland look of indifference changed to a wide, Cheshire grin and Harry suddenly wished that Ron was not in the room.

"Well, Harry, as it happens I was having hot, exhibitionist sex with this guy I met at the club and, right in the throes of passion, I stopped, looked up, and saw you leaving. So, obviously, I put that away in my memory just so I could tease you about it. Alas, my plans foiled again." The last sentence was spoken in a tone of long suffering, after the sexy, husky drawl she'd used before. Harry, not used to hearing Hermione say things like that, was blushing like mad.

"_Hermione_!" Harry hissed, eyes darting over to Ron – still oblivious and enthralled with his chess game. Hermione chuckled, shaking her head. She went back to her book and Harry thought that he was really quite luck, his torture had been over quite quickly.

What I was doing there is most definitely not as important as what you, Harry James Potter, were thinking when you left a muggle club with Lucius Malfoy knowing full well that he's a Death Eater. But that is secondary to what you did after you left." She placed her book mark in and Harry knew he was doomed.

"So, what was Lucius Malfoy like in Bed? You did make it to a bed, right?" That smug little smile let Harry know that Hermione was really, in her heart of hearts, a sadistic person. Harry buried his head in his hands and she cackled.

"Oh Harry!"

Harry vowed to never try and do anything like this again – at least not with Hermione. He was, most definitely, out classed.

"What will Sirius say?"

And Harry passed out.


	9. Scar

**Title**: _Scar_

**Words**: _777_

**Pairing**: _Lucius/Harry_

**Warning/Disclaimer:** _The usual stuff. SLASH/YAOI. Insinuation that Fudge actually has a libido. There is clear evidence of the physical abuse of Harry, and a definite insinuation about the deaths of the Dursleys. And, purely out of tradition since I know none of you think I actually own it, I shall at a disclaimer. Don't own. _

Thanks to my reviewers. And also to _Serpents_ _Rose_, who wrote the Omake - though I padded it out a bit.

Lucius nodded as Minister Fudge continued to talk. The words were meaningless to the rich pureblood, he already knew Fudge would bend over backwards, on a bed of white hot nails, to please him or do what he said. Someone had once suggested that Fudge's desire to please him stemmed from something more than Lucius' gold.

He had enjoyed torturing the man that had even suggested such a thing – then tried to obliviated the thought about Fudge with alcohol.

A few Aurors walked past, one of the women wearing a knee length skirt. Lucius' attention was drawn to a large scar on her ankle that extended up her right leg. At the sight of the scar, Lucius was once again reminded of that night. He was still regaining his memories – Lucius was convinced that those drinks had been spiked – but this memory was not pleasurable like the others had been.

They had made their way from the fireplace, stopping several times on the way at the dining room table, the bottom of the stairs leading to his wing of the manor, near the top of the stairs, the door of his room, but Harrys pants had stayed more or less on the whole time. They stepped through the door and Harrys jeans slid down to his ankles and Harry had stepped out of them, glancing shyly up at Lucius as if they hadn't just had sex numerous times.

_His huge green eyes drew Lucius in and he stepped forward, wanting to take off the rest of the teens clothes before he devoured him with his eyes – and then his mouth. The dress shirt fell to the floor, but Lucius hadn't been able to complete his plans. _

_The majority of Harrys torso was covered in scars. The scars extended around to his back, over his shoulders, down to his thighs and were all different sizes. The majority were thin and silvery, slightly paler than Harry's skin, but there were a few that were thick and raised. Harry averted his gaze as Lucius let his hands drop. Why was Harry looking away?_

"_Who did this to you?" Lucius demanded. How could someone want to hurt such a beautiful, innocent being? Well, apart from Voldemort. Lucius paused, his alcohol addled brain thinking that there was something important about Harry standing in front of him – vulnerable – that Voldemort would want to know, but Lucius couldn't think of it. And the thought was soon washed away by anger, anyway. _

"_It doesn't matter, Lucius. But, I'll leave if you want me to." Harry said, reaching down to grab his jeans. Lucius shook his head, catching Harrys small hands. Watery green eyes looked up at him. _

"_You are beautiful, even with scars. I just want to know who did it, please tell me Harry? I need to know. I promise that I won't do anything to them." Lie. Lucius would string them up and flay them. Pour boiling acid into their eyes; tear the muscles from their bones. _

"_Luci-" Harry was cut off as Lucius stepped forward and embraced him, silencing his words with a blistering kiss. _

"_Please Harry?" He asked, trailing a path down Harrys neck with his lips. _

"_It was-" Harry gasped as Lucius bit down. "M-my Uncle. He doesn't like me." Lucius claimed his lips again, trying to distract Harry from what were most probably painful memories. It worked. Harry kicked his jeans away and Lucius threw him onto the bed as gently as he could, quickly shedding his clothes and climbing onto the teenage boy spread out on his bed._

"If you'll excuse me minister, I have some urgent business to attend to." And Lucius hurried away from the incompetent man. He was out of the building minutes later trying to remember what Narcissia had once gossiped to him about Lily Evans' muggle family. Her sister in particular. She had married a man, but what was his last name?

Thursden?

Rosedale?

Dresden?

Dursley? Yes, that was it. Vernon Dursley married Petunia Evans.

Lucius arrived at his intended destination. He sneered at the muggle phone booth but stepped inside anyway. He lifted the address book and flipped through until he came to the name – and more importantly the address – that he wanted.

V and P Dursley, 4 Privet Drive, Surrey.

Bingo.

They had hurt Harry, his beautiful Harry, and they would need to pay. He could show Harry his devotion (because who else would kill off his enemies but a suitor?) and alleviate his new found anger over the scars discovered on his body.

The Dursleys would not see the end of the summer.

Well, with their entire mind at least.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++OMAKE+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Harry looked out the window of the Burrow's kitchen and saw one of the bushes rustling. Harry assumed that it was one of the Gnomes, but wondered what it was doing out so late. Harry himself was the last person awake in the Burrow. Everyone else was asleep but Harry had come down for a quiet moment to think. He alternated nights with Hermione.

Harry placed his glass of water down on the counter. He might as well go and get rid of it now – save doing it tomorrow.

Harry quietly exited the Burrow and approached the bush. The teen paused upon seeing something that was almost blindingly white in the darkness. White blonde hair, attached to the head of one Lucius Malfoy.

"What are you doing?" Lucius stood up, absent mindedly trying to remove the sticks and leaves from his hair.

"Nothing." He replied, nose up in the air even as he watched Harry from the corner of his eye.

"...Right. Nothing." Harry nodded slowly, as though he was dealing with someone a bit ...slow. "Tell me how that goes, would you." Lucius noded, giving a slight bow.

"I shall indeed endeavour to do so at the earliest possible convenience." Harry shuffled away from him a bit, giving another nod.

"I'm going to...I think I'll...just go back inside now." Lucius gave a gracious nod of his head.

"I'll stay here...and watch you..." He trailed off, though not apparently phased by what he'd just said, and crouched down in the bushes again.

"You do that." It took all Harry had not to run away.


	10. Notification

**Fandom**: _Harry Potter_

**Title: **_Notification_

**Words: **_787_

**Warnings/Disclaimer**_: The usual. See other chapters for Disclaimer as well. I'm feeling lazy. So incredibly lazy that I'm actually asleep while writing this. I have two and a half hours until I have to wake up, as I'm writing this. Fun. Thank you for the reviews. _

Harry knew that the rest of them were looking for him but he didn't particularly care. He was in his favourite place in the Burrow. Right now he was lying underneath his bed, staring at the bottom of his bed. There was one thing attached to it. A note that he'd spell-o-taped to the bed frame, so that no one else could ever see it. It had come to him about a half hour ago, delivered when he was sitting alone by a regal looking eagle owl.

Harry had offered the bird some owl treats, and the owl had been surprised – as if the normal recipients of the letters he delivered didn't give him food. The bird ate the treats, had a drink of water, and Harry detached the letter. And then he offered the bird the meat from his sandwich so Mrs. Weasley would think that he'd eaten something. Shortly after Harry was alone again and he opened the letter. It was short.

_I remember that night. It haunts me. Continuously. You left marks on my body – bite marks, scratches and a few love bites – and I so dearly hope that you have physical reminders of me too. Because, even though it haunts and torments me, I would repeat it every night if I had the chance. _

_If you gave me the chance. _

_I want it again, I want you again. And I will have you. Consider this a formal declaration of my intention to court you. You will be mine, Harry James Potter. You'll receive my first gift soon. _

_Lucius Abarax Malfoy._

The ink was a royal blue; the parchment was thick and had small designs all over it. It looked expensive. Harry had never realised that handwriting could be beautiful, but the elegant cursive that was scrawled so precisely across the page made Harry think that it could be. Harry had no idea how long he had been here – time was irrelevant.

The funny feeling in his stomach, however, had not left him since he'd finished the letter. It wasn't a heavy feeling, like dread or sorrow, but it made him feel light. Giddy.

Someone wanted him.

Harry knew that his friends loved him, but Harry had had it ingrained into him from the Dursleys that no one would ever love him like that. No one would ever want to touch him intimately. Vernon had tried to get the injuries to scar as much as possible so that they would constantly remind Harry that he was ugly, deformed. No one would ever want to touch the scars.

But Lucius had taken the time to run his fingers across everyone, even the slanderous words in his back, and kissed them. Harry had watched, entranced, as Lucius swept his tongue across a thick, ropy scar that was on his hip. Of course, he'd then been distracted by Lucius paying attention to a thin, barely there scar on his inner thigh.

Harry still couldn't get over the fact that _somebody wanted him_. Harry didn't even care that it was Lucius Malfoy. Harry sighed, and finally admitted to himself that he didn't really want to forget that night at all. He hadn't wanted to, but it had all been so much easier when everything was clear cut. When he had known Lucius Malfoy as a dangerous Death Eater, rather than a fucking sex god it was much easier to say (convincingly) to Ron that he hated every single Death Eater.

Because he had just, in that moment, realised that he didn't hate Lucius Malfoy.

Hell, he might even feel a bit of l-

The door was slammed open, Harry's thoughts being cut off mid way. Harry saw the feet off a very agitated Remus Lupin. Harry knew it was Remus because he was currently saying Harrys name. Harry crawled out from under the bed and looked up at Remus – because he didn't want anyone coming under there, seeing the note and becoming curious.

"What is it Remus?" Harry asked. He was honestly curious as to what was wrong. Remus was like a father to him, but Harry still thanked every power that he could think of that Remus hadn't been one of the people to pick him up. Harry knew that Remus had an excellent sense of smell and Harry really didn't want to know whether the werewolf could pick up the scent of sex.

Because that would have been awkward. And gotten him into so much trouble.

"It's the Dursleys, Harry." Harry frowned. He hated them – maybe Lucius would have sent word sooner if it had not been for the scars?

"They've been found dead. Tortured. You're needed to identify the bodies. Well, what's left of them."


	11. Morgue

**Fandom**: _Harry Potter_

**Words**: _437_

**Title**: _Morgue_

**Warnings/Disclaimers**: _I don't own. Slash/Yaoi, mentions of what Lucius did to the Dursleys, not really much. And, Sarah, my sixteenth was really fun. I got a Lava lamp! And chocolate. And a skull to put my pens in. And a pillow that says _I have a date with sping_ on one side and _I Haa date with Sping_ on the other. And some silly putty. Sucks you two missed it. This was written back in April, for my sixteenth. Probably should have uploaded it sooner, yeah?_

Harry had stood in the morgue and identified his relatives; Remus' hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him grounded. And now that he was back at the Burrow, after intense questioning by police, he sat alone in the room he shared with Ron.

Sitting on the bed, letter in his hands, he started to panic. Had that been the gift Harry had been so excited to receive? The murder of his last family wasn't something to be happy about. Just because he didn't like them didn't mean he wished for their deaths.

Harry was so confused. How could he have ever thought that Lucius Malfoy could do something nice? And he knew the Lord Malfoy was responsible because on the back of his uncle had been an inscription.

'_My dearest, the love I feel for you flows like the blood of this pig as I cut his neck._'

It might have been comforting, if Harry hadn't been so disturbed by it. He needed to talk to someone. Someone who wasn't going to judge him, who would understand everything. He needed to talk and vent and he needed someone to give him advice.

It was long past time to talk to Hermione.

But the look on her face when he admitted that he did actually have sex with Lucius Malfoy made it almost not worth it. But, as she pushed a book towards him and patted his hand, he was grateful for his best friend.

"Don't worry Harry, read this book. It will explain _everything_." She smiled at him, and Harry gave a strained smile back.

He could still see the severed fingers and toes of his relatives spread out on the morticians table, the nails having been ripped off. There was also a bony arm lying on there – missing from his aunt. His Uncle was missing an eye, an ear, his tongue, and had several deep cuts on his body. There were also, on all three of them, large spans of skin missing.

"I know this isn't the time but...was he good?" Harry threw a pillow at her, laughing.

"I don't know, do you have a name that I can attach to your mysterious club man?" He asked and she raised an eyebrow.

"Club man? Make him sound like a cave man why don't you." She scoffed and Harry shrugged.

"Until I get a name, you don't get any details and he gets stuck with Club man." She rolled her eyes and Harry stood up.

"Go read the book, then come and talk to me." Harry nodded and left her room to read the book.


	12. The idiots guide to

**Fandom**: _Harry_ _Potter_

**Words**: _594_

**Title**: _The idiots guide to..._

Excerpts from '_Rituals of pureblood courtship for the hideously dumb and muggleborn_' by King Mahon.

_Once the suitor has announced courtship to his intended; he has no need to inform the parents or guardians. In fact, he only has to announce it if his intend it asks him to. He can inform of his intent to court verbally or through writing. Written, it has to be done in specialised ink to invoke the magic of the courtship..._

_If the intended is still receiving magical education, the suitor will normally speak with the parents of his intended first. This is to ensure that there are no betrothal contracts. Betrothals are normally carried out upon the completion of school, and the suitor would not want to accidentally incur the wrath of their intended's parents. There have been exceptions though. Orphans and in the very, very rare cases that the suitor and the intended have already had sex._

_If sex has already been had, courtship is not necessary and only a formality. The suitor has every right to claim their intended, but they normally court to save the wrath of the family. To read of the 5 cases where sex has been had first go to page 297... _

_Gifts can range from large, sprawling mansions to small birds. The suitor will, though, most often try to display his wealth and influence to his suitor. This is especially important when there is more than one suitor – often the one with the most power, influence and wealth is successful and the others are rejected. _

_Suitors from the older families are often known, as their first or second gift, to eliminate the enemies of their intended. This is a sign that they are able to protect their intended. It is also a display of power, being able to get away with murder that is often gruesome and torturous. _

_An example of an old family that follows this display is the Malfoy's. They will kill off their intended's enemies first and then spend the next couple of gifts showing that they can provide for their intended. After they have shown that they can protect and provide, they will then send gifts that are special to their intended. These gifts can go on for sometime, ranging from one of each to thousands spanning over years. _

_The second last gift is one proving that the suitor proving that they can pleasure their intended and the last is a ring, but we will address that later..._

_At the end of a courtship, a ring is sent as a gift. The intended had two choices. Until now, they have had to endure the gifts, willingly or not. Once the ring is sent, everything is in the intended's hands. They can choose to accept and wear the ring or decline and send back the ring all the other gifts. _

_Once a courtship in entered into, the only way out of an unwanted courtship is through the rejection of the ring. This does not need to be done in person, as history had shown that when the intended rejects the ring in front of the suitor, the intended gets severely injured. _

_This author warns strongly against rejecting the ring in the presence of the suitor. In fact, this author recommends that you do not enter into a courtship with a Malfoy, as their gifts tend to be over the top and they don't handle rejection well..._

Hermione had highlighted that paragraph and written a note next to it.

'_Sorry, too late for you.'_


	13. Plaque

**Fandom**: _Harry Potter_

**Words**: _479_

**Title**: _Plaque_

**Warnings**: _nothing much. I don't actually think there is anything in here that's offensive. Or, alternatively, there could be something so appalling to the human eye that there are no appropriate words to describe it and I am going to delight in scarring your delicate mortal minds forever with the next chapter of this story. I'd place my money on the second one._

_Wow. I don't think I've updated anything for a while. I'm a bit slack, yeah? Oh well, most of the people that read are a bit slack at reviewing, so I think it's a bit even. That's not to say that I don't appreciate the people who do review, because I do. I hyperventilate, and squeal and my brain explodes and my insides go all fuzzy. It's really quite a wonderful feeling, which gets me looks like I should be locked away. _

_Not that I don't already live in a padded cell. But, enough with my rambling. Go read! Hurry! What are you still doing reading this? What am I still doing writing this?_

The next few days were filled with tension as he was torn between faking being in mourning for the Dursleys - because really, he couldn't force himself to feel anything but hate for them, regardless of the horrible way in which they'd died - sneaking around with Hermione and talking about everything that had happened, and waiting to see if there was going to be another gift.

Despite the note still taped to the underside of his bed, the knowledge that the Dursleys had been tortured mercilessly before a painful death, there was still a part of Harry that didn't believe Lucius Malfoy was seriously. The part of him that still felt like he was about to be screamed at by Molly Weasley and beaten, told he was no good and - why was he sleeping in a real bed? Go back to your cupboard! - That part of him thought that there was still a good chance that Lucius Malfoy would decide he wasn't worth it.

Send him a note formally informing him that there had been a mistake, the letter had reached the wrong person and he'd gotten the address wrong, killed the Dursleys in place of others.

_He'll get tired of you. Finally see past the illusion on 'the boy who lived', the illusion that keeps everyone in this magical world from seeing you and hating you and hate you and leave you. You should just give a pre-emptive strike. Just go back to the cupboard now._ The voice didn't try to be malicious, he just didn't want to get hurt anymore than he already had been. He'd hardened his heart in an attempt to feel less scared.

That scared little boy only came to the front when he was lying alone in his bed at night, clutching at his blankets, because he was distracted during the day. At night there were no distractions. Everyone had thought it better that Harry was alone to mourn, and the Twins had cleared out their old room in what had seemed like seconds, and minutes later Harry had his own room at the Burrow. It was kind of surreal. There was even a plaque on the door now, claiming the room to be Harrys.

Not even the scared little voice, whispering to him that it wasn't real. It was just an evil, wicked illusion created to hurt him more when the bubble burst, could take that plaque away from him.

Harry felt like he belonged. Finally.

But the sense of belonging he got from the Weasleys, from the new plaque on the door which was a little snitch etched into it, couldn't stop him from wondering about Lucius Malfoy.

Couldn't stop the feeling of immense relief and happiness when he same regal looking owl tapped lightly on his window in the middle of the night, carrying the second present.


	14. Album

**Fandom:** _Harry Potter_

**Words**: _1100_

**Title**: _Album_

**Warning**:_ Nothing much, really. Just mentions of what Lucius did to the Dursleys, someone obviously enjoying torture, mentions of an already happened murder. Really bad, cheesy thought up poetry that's about as generic as that Mothers Day card you gave your ma. But be warned, if I think of anything extra, super cheesy like the mozzarella on a good pizza, and I can work it in, it will be done. _

_And this chapter officially ends my writing spree. Hope you had fun. Updating will go back to its crappy, sporadic, spasmodic self. _

The large package was eagerly ripped open, a large bowl of Owl treats for the messenger, and a photo album sat in front of him on his bed. It was similar to the one Hagrid had given him in his first year. But only in the fact that it was an album that housed photos.

This photo album was encased in what could have been any number of expensive materials, but Harry hazarded a guess at silk. It was black and stitched into the front cover with silver writing was '_for you to treasure as much as I treasure you._'

Harry wondered if there was a book that Lucius was getting these saying out of. Either that, or Harry had severely underestimated the suave, poetic-ness of Lucius Malfoy.

The teen just stared at the cover of the album for a second before reaching out and sliding his hand down the side of it, and flipping it open. There was a title page, which was made of black paper and, as Harry looked at the paper for the rest of the album, he noticed that it was all black, with the edges of the paper, boarders and writing all done in silver. It was very stylish.

Harry didn't care that the black reminded him of the colour of Wormtails dark mark as the man writhed in pain as Voldemort called his other followers, because he liked the silver. It reminded him of a clouds silver lining, the light at the end of the tunnel, the good coming from the bad, and Lucius' hair.

Harry just skimmed the words written on the title page, dedicating to album and its entire contents to Harry. '_My creativity was inspired by your beauty._' Harry wondered if he should read the letter that had been attached to the parcel first, but then decided not to. After all, it was a photo album. What bad things could come from it?

Harry found out as he flipped the page and saw a picture, a stationary picture, of three very familiar people.

The Dursleys had looks of absolute terror on their faces. They were bound at the wrists and feet with rope, and Harry wondered if Lucius had tied it himself. They were in the living room, and Harry could see one of the neighbours watching T.V in their home. There were obviously spells making sure that no one would suspect anything. That no one would hear their screams.

Harry wasn't sure if he wanted to flip the page, but he did anyway. There was a picture of a large carving knife. Harry knew it well. He'd used it to create dinners for his family many times, and it was responsible for many of the scars on his body. Underneath the word '_before'_ had been written in the same marvellous hand writing that had adorned everything else Lucius had sent him.

Flicking through the album, Harry got to watch as a mixture of muggle and magical photos captured his last living, now deceased, relatives abject terror, the horror on their faces as the carving knife was produced. Was witness to the way his aunt thrashed as parts of her skin were torn away, how Dudley cried and screamed as his nails were pulled out, and then as his toes were separated from his body. Harry, though he didn't particularly enjoy the photos, found that he didn't hate them.

In fact, he hated the Dursleys themselves more than he did the photos. The photos only disgusted them because of the violence and torture that they represented. But Harry didn't feel the same about all of the photos. There were a few, involving his Uncle, which Harry would gladly have hung in his room if it wouldn't have raised some questions.

Like the moving, wizarding one, in colour, where Lucius can be clearly seen cutting his Uncles throat cleanly.

It was beautiful, like he did it every day. And it wasn't a calm and collected Lucius Malfoy that had handled the knife. His blonde hair wasn't perfect, there were fly away bits, pieces that hung in his face. There was a bit of blood on his face, his tip and bridge of his nose, and the expression was one of rage and satisfaction.

There was another two photos containing the carving knife, and harry found that he didn't hate the knife as much as he remembered. As a small child, he'd thought that the knife was evil. It had been easier thinking that it was the knife controlling his Uncle, the man that was supposed to love and care for him, that his Uncle controlling the knife. But seeing the knife pinning his Uncles eyeball to the floor instilled a new respect in the teen.

The second last page of the Album had the knife, bloodied by the recent torture it had been exposed to. Underneath Harrys smiled at what Lucius had penned. Or quilled. Harry wasn't sure what the wizarding equivalent of that phrase was, but he'd ask Hermione when – if – he showed her the diary.

'_Your blood will never again coat this knife. I will protect you from any that dare hurt you, and then their blood will coat this knife like theirs is._'

It wasn't particularly romantic, but Harry felt slightly better about enjoying the pictures of his Uncles murder after he'd read it.

On the last page of the Album was what Harry assumed was essentially a before and after shot of Lucius Malfoy. In the 'before' shot, he was calm and collected. Everything Harry remembered him to be, as he had been every time they'd met 'officially.' Neat hair, a confident smirk and the wizarding photo raised an eyebrow at him. Harry tried to ignore the fact that he was in his nightwear. It was only a photo after all; it shouldn't be able to judge him.

But it was a photo of Lucius Malfoy, so Harry wasn't surprised it did.

The after shot, however, looked more like the Lucius that Harry had seen through the album. There was still blood on his nose, and a bit more near his left eye. There was even some blood in his hair. Some was darker, starting to dry, but there were a few flecks of bright red blood.

This picture wasn't as composed at the one next to him and, giving the other picture a sly look, he shot a grin at Harry. It was the largest smile Harry had ever seen on him, on a Malfoy, ever.

Out of the bedroom, that is.

Harry liked that picture.


	15. Announcement

**Fandom**: _Harry Potter_

**Title: **_Announcement_

**Words: **_999_

**Warnings/Disclaimer**_: The usual. See other chapters for Disclaimer as well. I'm feeling lazy again. And I have to be up at seven tomorrow morning (on a Saturday! For my little bros footy game!) but I'm still awake now. Thank you for the wonderful reviews and encouragement. Also, it has come to my attention that this is under the genre of humour. That was for the first two chapters. I have no idea what genre this would be under now. If you could let me know in a review so that I can change the classification. It's not really that funny, so I should have it changed. Thanks again, now go read you hobo's. (my my, it's been a while since I've been that rude to you, hasn't it.)_

"Harry! Harry, wake up. I've got your second present!" Harry went from dead sleep, to being so alert it was painful with Hermione's words. She'd found his the album? He didn't plan on ever showing it to her, or anyone. Except maybe one person – but Harry couldn't show them yet. His green eyes darted around the room before they landed on a calm Hermione sitting at the edge of his bed. She looked entirely too calm to be just sitting there, waiting for him to wake up. Shouldn't she be yelling some type of obscenities or vomiting or ripping the pages out?

Instead she was just sitting there with the Daily Prophet open in her hands. A Daily Prophet with two large pictures. One of Lucius, and the other of his...wife. Harry had forgotten that he had a wife. Was that even legal? To court someone while married. It hadn't been mentioned in the book, but Harry hadn't really read all of it. He'd read it, but it had either been skimmed or forgotten unless Hermione had marked the passage out.

It took a few seconds for Harry to actually read the headlines. _**'Malfoy divorce finalized!**_' underneath that it was written in slightly smaller print '_Lord Malfoy divorces is wife_ _on the grounds of overt adulterous behaviour, failure to fulfil the proper duties of a spouse, using Malfoy family money to support her many lovers and unfixable differences._'

Harry felt a smile stretch over his face. He hadn't thought of Mrs. Malfoy – or would it be back to Ms. Black now? – until he saw a picture of her, but the worry had been great. Would he be the evil home wrecker? Would he have to be subservient to her? Would he have to share Lucius? But immediately all the fears conjured up in his mind were alleviated.

Lucius was wonderful. Harry snatched the paper out of an amused Hermione's hands and read the article. The headline had basically summed it up. The only additional details were that a woman had tried to throw herself on Lucius, but he had pushed her to the floor, claiming that he had started to court someone as soon as the divorce had been finalized. _'This statement was confirmed by the Lord Malfoy sending out an owl as soon as the court session finished, according to a reliable witness._'

Harry wondered who the owl was to, but he didn't have to worry about it for long, as an owl that he was becoming extremely familiar with knocked on his window. It was a letter from Lucius, and Hermione stayed silent as he read it, a smile on her face as she played with something in her pocket.

"He says that he wishes that I could celebrate his release from his arranged marriage with me." Harry breathed out, a smile on his face too.

"Hmm. I wonder how you two would be celebrating." She cocked an eyebrow, uncrossing her legs and standing up.

"Maybe kind of like _'Oh god, right there._'" Harry blushed furiously. It wasn't what she was saying so much as the way she was saying it. Completely level, almost stoic. It just didn't fit the combination of the words, and made it worse. Not that Harry wouldn't have blushed anyway. He still gets flashes from that night. And he _had_ said something exactly like what Hermione had just said.

Hermione stretched, a satisfied grin on her face and she shifted her foot, frowning when it hit something. She looked down, and Harry panicked. She'd just noticed the album. _Why_ hadn't he hidden it better? Harry was frozen as she opened the cover and flicked through it, dropping the album on the floor and flopping in a boneless heap onto the bed.

"What an...interesting photo album." She took a deep breath before sitting up, slowly regaining her colour.

"Did you like it?" She asked and Harry shrugged, sitting next to her.

"I like what it represents, and the idea behind it. There are only a few photos in there I like. The rest made me feel a bit queasy." Hermione nodded, patting his had affectionately.

"Yes, the thought behind it was nice. That's what counts, right? Right." She sounded slightly like she was trying to convince herself. She stood up and picked up the photo album, closing it soundly.

"You should probably hide this better than under your bed." Harry smiled at her, relieved.

"You're not going to tell anyone?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes and muttering something that sounded suspiciously like '_ye of little faith._'

"Why would I? Then everything would be blown wide open and that would suck, wouldn't it. Besides, it's only a photo album depicting the horrible mutilation, torture and murder of your last remaining relatives. It's not like it's anything bad." Her sarcasm was obvious, but Harry ignored it. He took the album from her hands and placed it in his trunk.

"And besides, if I told everyone, I couldn't make jokes that only the two of us fully understand. And I couldn't make you blush as hard as the twins would. Especially when the worst thing I can come up with is teasing you about how loud you most likely screamed when you orgasmed." Harry watched her leave the room, mortified. He slammed his face into his hands and groaned, feeling his face heat up.

Hermione really did have an uncanny sense for the things that would make him blush because, well, they actually happened

Or maybe she was just lucky. Either way, Harry was forced to leave the room because of Mrs. Weasleys cry of '_Breakfast_.' Thankfully neither the twins or Tonks would be there. They hadn't forgotten about his pain upon arriving at the burrow, and were all too keen to tease him, try and get who it was from him, or try and orchestrate another meeting.

"Maybe take a muggle video camera along this time, eh?"

Tonks was a complete pervert. The Twins too.


	16. Dresses

**Fandom**: _Harry_ _Potter_

**Words**: _1070_

**Title**: _Dresses_

**Warnings/Disclaimer**_: The usual. I have realized that I have no idea where this story is going. Hell, I have no idea where any of my stories are going. No plan whatsoever. But then, how can I enjoy it if I know what's going to happen? Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, and readers, and alerters, and favouriters. I don't own. My dog will eat your hair if you try to sue me. Aha ha ha ha ha – I'm not joking. _

The next gift had _delightful_ timing. It was dinner time at The Burrow. Mr. Weasley was at work, and Mrs. Weasley was talking to one of her friends in the floo about the divorce of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissia Black. The large hardwood table only had Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny. And they were also talking about the divorce. Ginny was going on and on about the sanctity of marriage, and about how she would never be unfaithful to her husband, and blinking her eyes a lot.

Harry wondered if she had something in her eyes.

Ron wasn't really participating in the conversation. He didn't really care one way or the other. Why should he? The only way it would affect him, is if he decided to use the divorce to taunt Draco Malfoy when school started up again.

"Well, I think that he was wise divorce her. It was a smart move. You should be married for love, right Harry? And maybe he'll get remarried to someone he loves. Because love is important. If I fell in love with someone, I'd want you all to support me – whoever it was." Hermione said, and the other three nodded.

"Of course we'd support you Mione. Unless he hurt you, then we'll torture the guy to death. I know someone." Harry said, and Hermione rolled her eyes at him. She was glad he could joke with her about the fact that his suitor had horrible killed his family, but it was a lame joke.

"I absolutely agree with Hermione. Love is important in marriage." Ginny was blinking furiously again, this time while she was looking at Harry, and the teen was starting to get creeped out. Maybe he should tell her to go rinse whatever was in her eyes out with water.

"And if Harry loved someone who the rest of us didn't approve of, I would be willing to give whoever it is a chance. Because Harry loves them." Ron and Ginny nodded along with Hermione's statement, voicing their agreement.

And then the regal looking eagle owl flew in threw the window – avoiding the almost invisible glass panel better than Errol – and landed on the table. The package that it was carrying was large, and Harry offered the owl some of his dinner, along with a drink of water from his cup. He wouldn't need it anymore, especially since he planned to flee the dining room as soon as the package was untied.

Harry waited until the bird was safely out of the kitchen before he moved. Grabbing the package, he made a run for the stairs – just barely beating Ginny and Ron. Harry raced up the stairs and into his room, slamming the door and sliding the deadbolt across. He took a deep breath and looked up, jumping a bit when he saw Hermione sitting on his bed.

"What? You think I'm an idiot? As soon as that owl landed in front of you, I knew you'd bolt. I am also aware that there is no way I could beat you up here. I took pre-emptive action." She offered Harry, who'd moved away from the door and come to sit next to her on the bed, her plate. She had indeed thought ahead, bringing her dinner.

"So, open it." She urged and Harry carefully opened the package, stripping away the silver paper to reveal a black velvet box. Everything, it seemed, that Harry was sent was made from beautiful materials. Even the boxes.

"Open it." Harry thought that maybe Hermione was more eager to see what was inside than he was, but that was practically impossible. Harry was fairly vibrating with excitement.

Harry opened the box and lifted away some type of sheer cloth before he got to the actual present. Harry lifted it out of the box and was confused. It was...

"A dress?" Harry was definitely confused. The dress was made out of midnight blue velvet, and was high necked with small silver clasps running down from the neck to about half way down the garment. It wasn't a very practical dress, that was for sure.

"You're an idiot." Hermione said, shaking her head and rolling her eyes, taking the not dress out of Harrys hands and unfastening the clasps. She placed it over Harrys shoulders.

"It's an outer cloak. I don't even know how you thought it was dress. It has no arm holes, you dolt. _It's a cloak_. If you ever spawn, I will fear for the world." Harry pouted at her, not bothering to point out the fact the he was gay and biological children were impossible.

She fastened one of the clasps and pushed him towards the mirror in his room. Harry smiled. It fitted, and looked nice. He turned around to see Hermione holding up another...not dress. Harry wasn't going to say it was a dress – because it probably wasn't.

"Dress robes." She said and placed them on the bed. They were in a lighter shade than his cloak, complimenting the silver inside of his cloak. Hermione then pulled out a smart pair of black trousers, and a long sleeved dress shirt.

She moved the box away and turned around.

"Get dressed." She ordered. Harry would have protested, but then she'd either force him or leave the room. Leaving the room would mean that the door would open, allowing for Ron and Ginny to get it. So Harry changed.

The dress shirt was silk and felt nice against his skin, the trousers fit perfectly, the dress robes had the Malfoy crest on the breast over his heart in silver, and the cloak made him look very smart. He turned to Hermione and she smiled, handing him a pair of shoes. And then she handed him a pair of very familiar socks that Harry had thought lost. Harry pulled on the odd yellow and blue socks and then the shoes.

They fit as well. How Lucius had gotten his size was a matter of puzzlement, but he didn't care. Now he actually looked like he was someone that Lucius Malfoy would want to be seen with. He turned away from the mirror and back to Hermione. She pulled one last thing from the box. Harry smiled.

"Another dress robe." He said and she shook her head.

"No, a dress." She joked.

"What!" Harry yelped, and Hermione gave him a withering look.

"You're an idiot."


	17. Fanclub

**Fandom**: _Harry_ _Potter_

**Words**: _803_

**Title**: _Fan club_

**Warnings/Disclaimer**_: The usual. Thank you to all my lovely readers, and reviewers, and alerters, and favouriters. I don't own. My dog will eat your hair if you try to sue me. Ha ha ha ha ha – I'm not joking. Also – This chapter is safe for consumption by those named Jake and Millie. And those over the age of foetus. It's quarter past three in the morning – I'm waiting for the world cup final. I don't know who I want to win! Go Spain! Go Nederland! Damn you conflicting interest. To choose who I support, I'll have to flip a coin. Or maybe just see who has a higher number of attractive players. Ha ha. _

_This posting spree is dedicated to Carles Puyol, as that was probably his last time playing soccer on such a large stage. And he's a cutie. _

Lucius stared down at the book on his desk. It was an ancient book written by some long deceased Malfoy outlining the proper courtship rituals for Malfoys and their intended. He'd never needed to use it before, as his marriage to Narcissia had been arranged. He had never actually expected to use it. And then he'd had a one night stand with Harry blood Potter.

He couldn't even remember how he'd ended up in a muggle club – or maybe it had been a bar – but he'd found himself there and had seen the boy wonder. And that one night had started this obsession. He hadn't ever intended to act on it. Why would he? He was married, although not happily, and there would be outrage if he acted on his feelings towards the boy. Hell, Lucius didn't even know if the boy was of age.

And then he'd walked into his study and had found a book that looked like it had been hurriedly pushed under his desk – as if someone had hoped that it would be over looked. Lucius had picked it up, intending to put it back on the shelf, then he had realised that it was a book about the courting rituals of the Malfoys.

It had been like a sign from the gods. Lucius had flicked through it, knowing what he had to do when he realised that, according to ancient wizarding laws that were still completely valid, because he'd had sex with Harry and was the Lord of a pure blooded family, he could claim the boy at any time. And no one could do a single thing about it.

A few weeks prior to finding the book, Lucius realised that he had to do something about his obsession. It had been getting ridiculous. Having urges to jump up and kill the Dark Lord during Death Eater meetings was not a good thing. Especially since that would mean certain death, which would mean that somebody else could come along and claim Harry.

But then he'd found the book and he knew what he had to do. He knew that his obsession probably wouldn't diminish once he had possession of the boy – but he would be able to state it, and his libido, any time he wanted. Because the boy would be his.

So the courtship had started. Lucius had been willing to take it slow. To give Harry some time to adjust to the idea that he would soon belong to a Malfoy. The gifts also served another purpose in a Malfoy courtship – to give the intended a chance to adjust to the fact that they were about to be bonded to someone who was very, very possessive.

But, flicking through the driest book on Earth, Lucius was quickly jotting down all gifts that were essential he send. Things that needed to be exactly like the book said, and things in which he had a bit of leeway. Why, you ask? Because of a couple of magazines he'd recently come across.

'_The Official Harry Potter Fan Club Semi Annual Photo Issue.'_

'_The Official Harry Potter Fan Club Bi Monthly Fan Fiction Issue.'_

'_The Official Harry Potter Fan Club Monthly Love Letter Issue.'_

And there were many, many more. It had made his blood boil – to think of others thinking of his Harry. The courtship definitely had to be over as quickly as possible. He had made this decision after flicking through the _monthly_ love letter issue. But don't worry; it covered more than just love letters. There were also declarations, poems and song lyrics from what looked like almost every demographic in the wizarding world.

That issue hadn't survived long.

Lucius had been aware that other people, unworthy, disgusting worms of people, wanted his Harry. He'd just never thought about it before. Harry was his, absolutely. If anyone even tried to court or date or marry his precious little lover, then Lucius would drop all formalities – the courtship – and claim what was rightfully his.

But until that happened, he would continue to woo and romance his soon to be bonded. After all, he'd all ready proved his power and influence by murdering Harrys family. He'd enjoyed divorcing Narcissia, as well as putting together the photo album – even though it had been a bit of a hassle to figure out how to work a muggle camera. The courtship was fun. Especially trying to guess Harrys size when all he had to go off were hazy, lust addled memories.

But he had done it – and given his had a work out.

So yes, until some fool made a move on his beautiful Harry, forcing his hand away from romance and towards homicide, he would continue with courting Harry. And quietly campaign for the abolishment of all Harry Potter Fan Clubs.


	18. Noteless?

**Fandom:**_ Harry Potter_

**Words:**_ 650_

**Title:**_ Noteless?_

AN: No warnings apart from those I've already said before. It's getting a bit repetitive. I was listening to Triple J (an Australian radio station, which is awesome and can be heard over the internet as well as on the radio) when a song came on. It was _The adventures of Flash on a steel wheel_ by _Grandmaster Flash_. It is thanks to that song, and it's ridiculously catchy beat, that you have this chapter. Be thankful.

As it turns out, hiding out in a room in the burrow was practically impossible if people really wanted to get in. All Ron and Ginny had had to do was call Molly Weasley and explain what had happened, about the bird that looked suspiciously like the Malfoys eagle owl – "Ron, how do you know what his bird even looks like?"... "...Uh...I just do." – and the package. The door was unlocked, and both Harry and Hermione were sitting on the bed and talking calmly.

Hermione, being the brilliant Witch she was, had had the idea to hide the garment which held the Malfoy Crest. The dress robes were folded neatly by Harry and placed in the bottom of his wardrobe, on top of his album. Harry had placed the things there instead of his trunk, because he was the only one to go into his wardrobe, but Ron often searched his trunk to find sweets, or a homework sheet that he'd lost.

"Harry, those clothes look very smart." Mrs. Weasley said as she came in, and Harry stood up. He was wearing the dress shirt and trousers, as well as the shoes. Harry nodded, and Hermione smiled.

"You're always telling him that he should wear better clothes, and I guess someone else agreed with you. It fits perfectly, doesn't it?" Mrs. Weasley smiled at Hermione, nodding as she approached Harry. Harry span around for her to properly inspect the clothes, and she nodded.

"I must thank whoever it is who sent the clothes. You look so much better now. Not that you didn't look good before, Harry, but without those baggy clothes you look much healthier."

"Thank you Mrs. Weasley. I really like them as well. But I can't thank whoever sent them to me, because they didn't send a card." Mrs. Weasley frowned, and Harry tried not to feel bad about lying to her. The note was actually tucked away safely with his other notes, which now resided in the front of the album. It was a nice note, filled with innuendos and comments on his body. Harry had blushed a bit, while Hermione had been torn between blushing and sniggering so hard that she fell onto the floor.

"Maybe they were embarrassed about sending you clothes, afraid you wouldn't like them. We'll have to go to Diagon Alley to show off your new clothes, so that the person can come forward and be properly thanked." She nodded, before hugging Harry and leaving the room.

Ginny and Ron weren't so easily convinced, however.

"Who really sent it to you?" Ginny asked, sitting down on the bed next to Harry while Ron sat next to Hermione.

"I don't know. If I did, I'd send them a thank you letter. And maybe inquire as to how they knew my size." Harry frowned to cover his still there amazement over the fact that Lucius had known his size after one night. It was astounding. Or he just had an amazing memory. That thought made Harry blush, and he ducked his head so it wouldn't be noticed.

"That is a bit creepy mate." Ron agreed, both he and Ginny nodding. Ginny perked up after a few seconds of silence, though.

"We get to go shopping!" She gave a squeal that shredded Harrys ears, and the teen flinched. Hermione bared her teeth in a parody of a smile, not at all enthused with the idea of shopping, while Ron just groaned. He hated shopping, completely. Harry wasn't as hateful of shopping as Ron, though he didn't like it, but there was one positive.

He got to showcase his new clothes, given to him by Lucius. In public.

Harry was smiled at the thought of finally getting one over on those hounding journalists. He would be showing off evidence that he was being courted (by Lucius Malfoy, no less) and they wouldn't have a clue.


	19. Deuce

**Fandom:** _Firefly. Haha, just kidding. It's still Harry Potter._

**Words:** _774_

**Title:** _Deuce_

**AN:** _Boy, today is a updating spree. Black Velvet, One night Stand, The Dragomirs! Everyone, rejoice! I know I'm happy. Another warningless chapter. And no, I don't own Harry Potter. I once drew Sirius, does that count? I own my drawing, thus I own Sirius. Not the real Sirius, though. Don't own Gary Oldman, either. Damn. _

It was seven past eleven when Hedwig tapped delicately on the bedroom window of Lucius Malfoy. The man hadn't gone to bed yet, and was still flicking through the last pages of the book on the proper way to conduct a courtship. He stood up and opened the window for her, untying the letter she carried and absentmindedly offering her a bowl of owl treats that [insert name of owl] normally ate. The owl started to eat, and Lucius opened the letter.

The handwriting was terrible, nowhere near cursive and instead implemented block letters. But the block letters were charming, and the dark red ink was pretty. It was, of course, from Harry. Lucius hadn't ever received mail from the teen, but he knew what his bird looked like. Draco used to bitch about '_that stupid snowy owl that was probably bringing perfect Potter all of his fan mail_' all the time.

'_Lucius_' had been crossed out, with '_Mr. Malfoy_' written after it, and also crossed out. Then both had been scribbled out so Lucius could hardly make out what was written. Then there were several attempts at starting a letter, but all were unfinished. In fact, there wasn't a full sentence on the parchment. Lucius frowned, and flipped the parchment over to see if there was something on that side. There was.

'_Thank you for the clothes, and everything else. I do like the album. I never knew my Uncle was so photogenic. Sorry about the other side, I ran out of parchment. I just wanted to thank you. Mrs. Weasley saw the clothes (but not the family crest on the breast of the robes) and we're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow so everyone can see them. She really wants to thank whoever gave them to me. So I wanted to pass her thanks on. That's pretty much it. _

_-Harry._'

Lucius thought it was adorable that he'd gone through several sheets of parchment trying to write a letter to him and had run out, so had to use the back of an already used piece. But it gave Lucius an idea for another gift. Not necessary, but Lucius could spend a bit more time giving harry presents. It wouldn't put him out, and as Harry obviously wasn't adverse to the courtship, he wasn't worried about other people encroaching on his territory.

Lucius placed the note on his desk, for it was more a note than a letter, and walked to the window. The white owl flew past, assumedly winging her way back to her master, and Lucius stood at the window for a while. He didn't mind the cool air, but it became apparent that he had been lost in thought when he was jolted out of it by Draco.

"Tell me that you're not courting anyone." He demanded, and Lucius turned around.

"Only if you do the same, Draco." The teen scowled, throwing the note back on the desk.

"I don't know what you mean, Father." Lucius scoffed, shutting the window and moving away from it.

"Draco, I am not an idiot. I am quite aware that you're in the middle of a courtship with a young lady who is...very pretty. Even though her family and blood leaves much to be desired, she has that at least. At least I'm courting a man who is not only beautiful, intelligent and kind, but the head of his house." Dracos scowl intensified.

"Is that the only reason you're courting him, then? Because of his prestige?" Lucius levelled his son a look.

"You are well acquainted with my personality, son. Tell me, does that sound like something I would do? Especially since I have enough '_prestige_' by myself?" Draco looked to the floor, scowl still on his face.

"No, father. You're just possessive of an underage wizard saviour. How did you even start your obsession, anyway?" Draco asked, and Lucius raised a delicate eyebrow.

"How did you start yours?" Draco blushed, and Lucius laughed.

"We have reached an impasse, Draco. We both know who the other is courting, but do not wish for the information to become public. Neither of us wish to give up out intended, either and thus neither of us will. That's all there is to it. We can talk more later." Draco nodded, turning to leave.

"And Draco, we will be heading to Diagon Alley tomorrow." Draco looked back, nodding at his father, before he left the room. Both Malfoy men were left to their thoughts as they prepared for bed. Lucius smiled as he took the note and placed it on his bedside table. Tomorrow would be a good day.


	20. Attention

**Title:** _Attention (Harry rather prefers Lucius')_

**Words:** _888_

**AN:** _For XxAlysxX, because she's super smart! And a pervert. I rather like the title, because it speaks the truth. Because who wouldn't prefer Lucius' attention?_

Harry was, to be honest, a bit embarrassed by the attention he was getting from just walking down Diagon Alley. Normally he received a bit of notice, maybe a few people staring or asking for an autograph, but it had never been like this before. He'd stepped into the alley, wearing his new clothes (though obviously not the created dress robes) and, after being spotted by one reported, there had been a loud exclamation.

Apparently, he looked amazing in his new, fitted clothes. Amazing enough that there was now a hoard of people around him, a mix of journalists and shoppers, all complimenting him, asking for autographs and photos and interviews, screaming for his attentions and, the most embarrassing, groping him.

He felt quite uncomfortable.

Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny and Hermione had been pushed to the side, and Harry could only vaguely see where they were because of their distinctive hair. But they couldn't help him. In fact, no one seemed to be able to do anything but scream and try to touch him. Harry tried to back away, but froze when his back his something firm, but distinctively body like.

"And what, may I ask, do you all think you're doing?" Harry relaxed at the sound of the voice, and the feeling of a large hand settling on his shoulder. The voice was filled with cold fury, but quiet enough that it should have gone unheard in the roar of the crowd. Except it didn't. Every single person fell silent as Lucius Malfoy speared them all with icy glares.

"Mr. Potter came to Diagon Alley because the will of Regulus Black has been found and, as he automatically inherits everything owned by Sirius Black, he is to be present for the will reading. And here you all are, screaming at him, taking photographs and generally being bothersome. Show some decorum, no matter how little you have, and let the boy attend the will reading in peace." His voice hadn't risen at all, in fact it had gotten quieter.

Once he'd finished, the crowd started to melt away, and Harry was steered by the firm hand on his shoulder towards Gringotts. He hadn't known that he was supposed to be at a will reading today. Harry obediently walked up the white marble steps and entered the bank. Lucius opened a door for him, and the will reading room was revealed. Severus Snape, Narcissia Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks took up three of the five seats in the room. Lucius sat down, and Harry quickly snagged the last seat – which was next to the platinum haired man.

The will reading started quickly, and ended just as abruptly ten minutes later. Books, money and properties were equally doled out between the five people and Sirius received all the personal effects of Regulus. Seconds after everyone had signed a contract, saying that they accepted the things left to them, people fled the room. Andromeda left quickly through the door, Snape was first through the floo, followed quickly by Narcissia.

Even the Goblin fled the room. Harry turned to leave also, but was met with the smirking face of Lucius Malfoy.

"Thank you for bringing me here, and saving me out in Diagon." Lucius inclined his head graciously, and looked back up.

"It was my pleasure. I'm not normally the knight in shining robes." The fact that he was what most people needed saving from was left unsaid. Lucius moved forward, until he was pressed right up against Harry, and wrapped his arms around the small teen. Harry was a bit nervous at the predatory look in the mercury eyes. He'd never been kissed properly, Cho Change didn't count and he'd been completely smashed when he and Lucius had...Harry blushed at the thought, especially since the man he'd been thinking about was embracing him.

"You're adorable." He breathed, giving a little chuckle, before he slammed their lips together. Harry gasped, opening his mouth instinctually, and Lucius quickly entangled their tongues. Harrys arms lifted to grip the man's muscular biceps, and he was pulled closed to the blonde Lord. Harry tried to move his tongue to match the more experienced man, but soon submitted and allowed Lucius to dominate him. They started to move backwards and soon Harry felt the edge of the goblins desk hit his thighs.

Just as quickly as the blistering kiss started, it was over. Lucius lowered his head and rested it against Harrys shoulder. Lucius took a deep breath before straightening and moving away, withdrawing a package from his robes. It was a box, and he handed it to Harry with a small smile.

"So that you won't run out of paper next time." He said, before slipping out of the room. Harry looked down at the pretty box, opening it, and gazing at the beautiful parchment. It was a bit darker than normal parchment, and in the top left hand corner there was the Malfoy crest, with the Potter crest in the right corner.

Harry smiled, running a hand over it, before placing the lid back on the box and slipping it into his cloak pocket. Harry hurried out of the room and into the lobby of Gringotts, easily spotting the Weasleys and allowing himself to be dragged into a hug before he was herded to The Burrow.


	21. Jail Break

**Title:** _Jail Break_

**Words:** _525_

**AN:** _You know, Jail break is one of my favourite AC/DC songs. But I don't own the rights to that song (I own a vinyl AC/DC record with Jail Break on it) I also don't own Harry Potter. This is actually a rewrite. The original version of this was complete and utter shit. Honestly. I hated it, so I changed it. And no one would have known the difference if I…hadn't…just told you. Hmmm. Need to work on my secret keeping techniques. And you, that's right __**YOU**__, need to work on your reviewing techniques – though your favouriting/alerting wrist action is exceptional. _

It was interesting to note that Grimmauld Place never seemed to change. The creepy portrait of Walburga Black never ceased her wailing once she was awoken, Kreacher was always mumbling and muttering, Mrs. Weasley was always fighting some infestation or another, and Order members continuously traipsed in at all hours of the day and night.

Sirius was, obviously, still here and Remus, it seemed, rather liked keeping his best mate's company. Harry didn't mind, though, because it meant that he got a massive three way bear hug seconds after he stepped through the floo. Harry was having the air rapidly squeezed out of him, both men were unbelievably strong, but he didn't mind because these two men were family.

Harry wouldn't say father figures because Sirius would be included, and having the Azkaban escapee as a prominent figure moulding his life would be…not a god thing. Eventually, though, Harry was pried away from the two men by Mrs. Weasley. She reprimanded them for squeezing him to death, even though she did the exact same thing every time she saw him. He didn't call her on it though, because she was Mrs. Weasley.

You called her on things like that only if you had to. And Harry didn't have to. He needed Mrs. Weasleys cooking, however, so she could be hypocritical.

Harry, finally free of any hugs or attempts to kill him via air loss, took a deep breath of the clean(ish) air that Grimmauld place presented. The air at the Burrow was, unfortunately, now a toxic hazard. The twins had come home to grab some of their things from the attic and had decided _'hey, while we're here…'_ and experimented with a new invention for old times sake.

Stepping out of the fireplace, they all nearly died from smelling the air. It was so unbelievably rank that Mrs. Weasley had had them all turn around and floo to Grimmauld Place. Harry did not envy the twins one bit. After Mrs. Weasley gave them a tongue lashing, she was apparently going to make them not only retrieve the belongings of everyone but get rid of the smell as well.

Harry froze, one hand curled around the door handle, the only limp by his side. The twins would get all of his stuff. His trunk, his things from his wardrobe. And the twins, being the inquisitive little bastards that they were, might snoop. With his luck, they'd find the album. Or the letter under his bed.

Making an excuse, he left Ron and commandeered Hermione from Ginny. He explained the situation to her, and she understood exactly what they needed to do.

"Jail break." She whispered before shooing him away so she could plan. Harry obeyed obediently and trotted away, masking his worry as Remus and Sirius commandeered him.

"What are we doing?" Harry asked, and the two smiled at him, holding up the floo powder.

"Jail Break." They whispered, throwing the power in, dragging Harry into the flames, and then covering Harrys ears so he had absolutely no bloody idea where he was being pulled to. Or even what illegal activity he would be partaking in.


	22. Five words

**Title:** _Five words _

**Words:** _1119_

Arriving at an unknown location by floo is not pleasant. Actually, arriving by floo normally isn't pleasant. But you know what was worse? Arriving in the deserted foyer of Lucius Malfoy's house, with Sirius and Remus, by floo, when Sirius had the idea to completely vandalise the manor. Brilliant. But, even worse than that, Harry knew there was no way he could get out of it. And a part of him didn't really want to say no.

After all, if he got caught he'd get to see Lucius again. If he didn't, he got to trash stuff. Win-win, really. Harry accepted the muggle can of spray paint with curiosity. He had seen them before, of course, because Dudley and his little gang had liked to vandalise things and then blame it on Harry. What Harry was confused about, however, is the plan of Sirius and Remus for them not to get caught.

"Sirius, Remus. Why are we going to vandalise this place? And how are we not going to get caught?" Harry whispered. He couldn't come out and say '_Malfoy Manor'_ because then they'd want to know how he knew what Malfoy Manor looked like. That was a can of worms that Harry had, so far, successfully avoided.

And that he would continue to avoid as long as he was able to.

"Well, Cub, we're here at the home of a well known Death Eater. No wife, son is at one of his acquaintances' place and he is at the Ministry and should be for a while. And if he comes home early, hide. We'll get you out." Remus said, and Harry rolled his eyes. He walked off, shaking the spray cans, and wondered what colours he had.

Wandering around the Malfoy family home, Harry noticed that the staircase he was walking up was familiar and, reaching the top, it took Harry less than three minutes to reach the master bedroom. Quickly entering and shutting the door behind him, he tried out the paint on the back of the door. Red and Gold. Predictable.

A wide smile stretched across Harrys face as he vandalised the room in the most loving way he could think of. Exiting the room, Harry placed a large red and gold 'X' on the door. He was about to continue down the hallway, kind of hoping to find Malfoy (Draco's) room. He would gladly graffiti his room with swear words and tags, when there was a whoosh from the fireplace and the click of shoes hitting marble floor.

Looking over the balcony quickly, Harry spotted platinum blonde hair surveying his dining room. Mercurial eyes snapped up and Harry was caught. Harry held a finger up to his lips, before retreating from the railing and slipping back inside the master bedroom – easily avoiding all of the paint and 'hiding.'

The door handle turned, and the door swung open. Harry watched Lucius' black shoes as the man took in the new decoration of his room. Lucius took a deep breath before kneeling and looking under the bed, where Harry was hiding. Sure, he _could_ have hidden in the wardrobe which contained so many clothes that Harry would get lost, but where was the fun in that?

"Don't ever think of a career as an interior decorator." Was the dry remark. Harry rolled out from under the bed, and Lucius helped him up.

"Why? I rather like it." Lucius surveyed the room. The colours were atrocious, but the design was acceptable. Little red hearts dotted the walls, messages of love in gold, and, in gold on Lucius' mahogany headboard, was Harrys handprint.

"I think the colours are abysmal, though the design does have merit. But...do you have that red paint?" Harry handed over the can, and Lucius looked at it in distaste before quickly working out how to use it and covering his hand completely in red. He turned around and placed his hand on the head board, pulling it back and revealing a handprint next to Harrys smaller one.

"I like it." Harry said, and Lucius removed his wand from his cane, cleaning off his hand. He looked over at the teenager sitting innocently on his bed, a sly smile spreading over his face.

"You've been very naughty. Breaking into my house, vandalising my room. Whatever shall I do with you?" Harry raised an eyebrow at the approaching man, shrugging.

"I have no idea." Lucius bent over, pressing his mouth to Harrys in a chaste kiss. He was unprepared for Harrys hands to thread through his hair and pull him down so that his body covered Harry on the bed.

"Impatient." Lucius muttered, before attacking Harrys lips fiercely, tongue slipping through Harrys soft lips and massaging Harrys tongue with his own. Harrys hands left Lucius' hair, running down the front of the older mans chest. His hands made quick work of the buttons, and Harry pushed Lucius' outer cloak off his shoulders.

Lucius' lips left his mouth, travelling down to Harrys neck. Pressing a kiss to his pulse point, Lucius started to bite and suck on Harrys neck, delighting in the small little moans that Harry was making. Harrys hands, clenched in the front of Lucius' robes, relaxed before they started to pull at the cloth. He had opened the front of the shirt, hands trying to completely get rid of the clothes, when there was a quiet knock at the door.

"Harry?" It was Sirius' whispered voice that came through the door. Lucius bit down on Harrys neck as hard as he could, drawing blood, and Harry almost cried out. Lucius pulled back, a devious smile on his face. Harry glared at him, and Lucius pressed another chaste kiss to his lips before pulling Harry up from his bed and pushing him over to the door.

Harry quickly adjusted his shirt, which Lucius had somehow managed to half unbutton and push down past his shoulders, and blew a kiss back at Lucius before opening the door and slipping through. Lucius could hear the conversation through the door.

"Come on, we have to leave. Why are you so flushed?" Lucius smirked, listening as the two of them headed down the stairs. They would be completely useless on a stealth mission, as Lucius could hear Harry, as well as the Black fool and the werewolf with out moving. He heard the whoosh of the floo, before flopping back on his bed and staring at the ceiling.

Above him, in gold paint, was a huge love heart and, inside it, one sentence that made Lucius wish Harry was still with him so that he could show his appreciation. Five little words. Five wonderful words.

_I think I love you._


	23. Burrow

**Title:** _(At the) Burrow _

**Words**:_ 750_

**AN:** _Hello again, dearest readers. How have you been. My, wasn't this a quick update? I think it was. Especially since I double updates on Tuesday. Normally, after that mystical event, you don't get anything for a while. But, alas, my exams are coming up and – as bloody usual – I can' study because my stories decide __**now**__ is the best time to invade my brain. Little fuckers._

"Harry Bloody Potter, where the hell have you been?" The angry, hissed whisper was Hermione. Harry had reached the first landing, when Hermione had emerged from the shadows and dragged him back down stairs. She had a bag of floo powder in her hand.

"Never mind. I don't think I want to know what it is that you've done now." She looked him over, keen eyes spotting the love bites on his neck that he'd barely managed to hide from Sirius and Remus, and rolled her eyes.

"Or what you've had done to you." Harry blushed, hand covering his neck. Hermione rolled her eyes before grabbing him and pulling him to the floo with her. '_The Burrow'_ was whispered quietly and the two of them disappeared.

They exited the floo in a pile on the floor, Harrys bad luck with the magical transportation system contaminating Hermione as well. They stood up and dusted off, heading up stairs to Harrys room. They rushed up quickly, not worrying about the noise they were making. There was no one here.

Opening the door, Harry discovered that he had been wrong. There were people in Grimmauld Place. Gred and Forge Weasley, the notorious trouble making twins, were sitting silently on his bed – huge grins stretched across their freckled faces.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A pair of teenagers, sneaking out for a bit of a romantic romp?" One of them queried, and Harry scowled at them while Hermione, hit them both.

"You're oh so funny. Now leave so that we can collect Harrys things." One of them, Harry thought it might be Fred, raised an eyebrow.

"What is there that we can't do? Some dirty magazines', maybe, -"

"- a couple of sex toys - "

"- Or perhaps an album containing the gruesome murder of Harry relatives by his lover?" Harry paled, looking at the album, his album, which the twins pulled from behind them. The red headed twins shared a look, before smiling. Which did nothing to relieve Harrys fears at all.

"Don't worry Harry – we won't tell as long as you promise us three things." Harry was, of course, instantly suspicious. Fred and George Weasley. What could the possibly want? Nothing good, in all honesty. They were good people, sure, but pranksters and trouble makers at heart.

"First of all, promise us that you're happy with Lucius Malfoy." The way they said things in sync was adorable, and borderline creepy.

"I am very happy with him. He makes me smile, even when he's not there." They nodded, before one of them pulled a face.

"Lucius Malfoy, though? He's so _old_. And a Malfoy. And – oh." Both of them reached the same conclusion at the same time. Harry was used to it by now. They were practically one person in two, their thought processes were so similar. Once again, sweet. But creepy.

"So it's Lucius Malfoy that made you prefer sausages. Why?"

"Does he have a large…sausage?"

"Does he butter your sausage?"

"Do you like to eat his sausage?"

"Does his sausage-" The twins were cut off by Hermione.

"That's quite enough of that. You shouldn't be speaking of sausages so. Harry will be so embarrassed that he'll never eat another one." Harry blushed, glaring at Hermione while the twins snickered.

"You're just worried the conversation will turn to who it is that butters your roll. Club man still doesn't have a name. I bet you'd lik-"

"Harry James Potter! That is enough, if you value your life that is. And your…" Harry got the idea, and quickly stopped talking. He twins were snickering something fierce, until Hermione glared at them. They got the idea. They would say nothing. At least for another hour or two.

"Second, if he ever hurts you, you have to promise to tell us." They smiled.

"So we can make sure he regrets it." Harry rolled his eyes. That was typical Weasley family, typical twins. Looking out for their friends. They were so nice to him; they always had been.

"Okay. I promise." The nodded, before lecherous smiled spread on their faces once more, and Hermione groaned.

"Lastly," Harry raised an eyebrow.

"And most importantly…" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"We want some pictures." Harry blushed furiously. Their laughing was cut off by Hermione's hand.

"You two are the most immature-" Harry tuned Hermione out, laughing along with the twins. It was good to know that other people, apart from Hermione, would support his choice.


	24. Weakness

**Title**: _Weakness_

**Words**: _537_

**AN**: _My, it has been a long time, hasn't it. Yes it has. Want to know why? Because I'm in a bitch fight with my thumb drive. What the hell even is a driver, anyway? I don't know, but apparently something has happened to the ones on my thumb drive and everything has been lost. Unfortunately it took my creativity with it. Bastard. I'm only just getting back into the creativity groove. More updates should come soon, I hope, but if any one knows what a driver is, please tell me. Better yet, if you know how to fix it, don't leave me in the dark. _

_It's scary. _

Lucius sipped his tea quietly, mercurial eyes boring into the man sitting across from him. Red, blood shot eyes, a constantly moving foot, fingers tapping the arm of his chair. All signs of a weakness. Lucius despised weakness. The man hadn't taken more than a sip of his tea, but it was enough. Lucius placed his own cup down on the table.

"So, Mr. Steader, you said that you had some information for me." Lucius' eyes roamed over the man, cataloguing everything he saw.

"Yes Mr. Malfoy. You came into the bar that I was working in some time ago. That same night a man came and paid me to pour something into your drink. It's been weighing on my conscious ever since, and I simply had to tell you." Lucius raised an eyebrow as the man scratched his arm, drawing attention to the little hole like scars on the inside of his arm.

Yet another weakness to add to the ever growing tally. Lucius could not see any reason why one would become addicted to something, and then go so far as to use primitive muggle means… it simply signified weakness of the mind and the body.

"Who paid you, Mr. Steader?" Lucius asked, and suddenly there was a particular look in the mans too close together eyes. Lucius had seen the look many times; it was a constant in Minister Fudges' eyes. That was another man whose entire character was built on weakness.

"You will of course be compensated for your trouble." Once the mans greed was satisfied, Lucius was able to hear the tale of the man he would soon destroy.

"Jock Strali, a minor journalist for the Daily prophet as well as a few other rags. He wants a big brake, but can't seem to get any. So he tries to create scenarios he can cash in on. Unfortunately, he had a bit too much to drink when he paid me that night and was thrown out by the bodyguards before you and Harry Potter got to being friendly." Lucius raised an eyebrow again.

"Have you told anybody about my apparent familiarity with the Potter brat?" He asked, and the man shook his head.

"No. Not yet, at least." He said shiftily and Lucius nodded. Drawing a sack of galleons out of his robes, he threw it at the man who fumbled with it for a few seconds before his grubby hands closed around it and the gold disappeared on his person.

"See that it stays that way." With the clear dismissal, the man stood up, gave a hasty bow before leaving Malfoy manor as quick as was physically possible. He tried to, at any rate. The poison that had been in his tea finally took effect, however, and he fell down dead before he could close the door to the drawing room.

"Jumbi." Lucius called softly, and a house elf popped into the room.

"Dispose of the corpse, retrieve my money and prepare the potions lab." He ordered, leaving the room via the dead body, one leather clad foot stepping on the man as he went.

Jock Strali would soon meet his end, but first Lucius had a few tests to run.


	25. Allegiances

**Title:** _Allegiances_

**Words:** _1080_

**AN:**_I just got back from camping. As in, pitching your own tent, sleeping on the floor, no internet camping. It was fun. I got a couple of leeches and pulled a leech of this chick I know. We camped right next to a river. And this guy herded some cows past us. Cows. They were really pretty. The calves were adorable. And then I drove for a couple of hours to get home, the dog was so excited when we arrived home. He went psycho. And, in all this craziness, I managed to write this. Feel Happy. _

_And I want to thank everyone who reviewed. It makes me happy to know you like my story, and miss it when I don't update. And thanks to __**hawkswench**__ . Yeah, I did pull my thumb drive out without doing the 'safely remove...' thing. It was the first time in, like, months that I'd done it and then my thumb drive didn't work. I was so annoyed, but at least now I know why. Thanks also goes to __**serpentsrose**__ who helped me with me thumb drive. Now I just need to find it. In my wisdom, I stashed my thumb drive in a safe place. _

_I don't suppose any of you know where that is?_

Once again, Lucius Malfoy was drinking tea in his public sitting room. This time, however, he had not poisoned either drinks. He did not want to kill Severus Snape, after all. It would not help him to kill his acquaintance. The two sat in silence, neither willing to break the calm. Eventually, though, Lucius placed a piece of parchment on the table separating them.

"This piece of parchment contains the results of my blood test from several years ago." Severus picked up the parchment, face as stoic as ever. He looked over the results, not surprised by anything on there. It was practically the perfect pureblood result.

"This is a blood test from a couple of days ago." Lucius slid another piece of parchment across the table. Severus picked it up, an eyebrow lifting as he looked over the results. He placed the parchment back down on the table, leaning back in his chair and staring at Lucius.

"And?" He finally asked once it was clear that Lucius wasn't going to say anything.

"And I want you to tell me what could cause such a change and if you knew what the change could mean." Severus sighed, reading between the lines. He did not want to tell the fanatical pureblood what had changed for fear that the blonde would shoot the messenger, as the saying goes.

"Your DNA has, essentially, changed. DNA is a muggle thing it is, basically, what makes you who you are. It's your … essence. It's the building blocks for life. Yours has been changed. Irrevocably, it looks like. Something, I could not even presume to know what, has changed your DNA. It appears that a recessive gene has been brought forward and some previously dominant genes have been pushed back. It's almost as if entire parts of your DNA have been changed."

Lucius leant back in his chair, and Severus was wondering if it had been a good idea to drink the tea. He'd seen both tests and, with that, he could figure out what exactly had changed. That was both good and bad. Good, because Lucius probably wouldn't dispose of him until he'd gotten the information he wanted. Bad because he'd then know what had changed and if it was what Severus thought it was, then he would not accept any tea from Lucius for the rest of his life.

"Can you tell me what exactly has changed?" Lucius was suspiciously calm, and Severus wondered if the man already knew. Then again, he'd probably already taken care of whatever caused the change in the first place.

"Not yet." Lucius nodded, and Severus stood up with the two pieces of parchment, knowing the man well enough to sense a dismissal. Severus walked to the fire place, he'd floo back in a few days with whatever he found. But, depending on the news, he would only send his head through. Or maybe even just a letter would suffice.

One hand already in the floor powder, Severus was halted by the smooth voice of Lucius.

"The Dark Lord is an insane lunatic with delusions of grandeur." Severus whipped his head around, a retort on his lips. He mightn't be loyal to the Dark Lord, but he was a double agent and must keep up appearances at all times. He didn't get to respond to Lucius' bold statement, however, because the man cut him off.

"Don't bother Severus, I am aware of where your real allegiances lie. I know that you support Dumbledore, I do not know why. I don't particularly care, either. My reason for bringing this up, when I have been sitting on the information, is that I need your help." Severus had frozen, torn between fleeing straight away and trying to deny the accusations.

"The Dark Lord and the power he holds no longer interests me. I want to leave him and the Death Eaters and I want to be gone soon. I need you to organise a meeting with Albus Dumbledore for me." Severus raised an eyebrow, releasing the floo powder in his hand and turning to face the blonde aristocrat.

"And why should I believe that you wish to abandon the ideals that you've held since you were born?" Severus asked, body tense and ready to spring for the fire at the first sign of movement from Lucius.

"The person that I am courting is light way inclined. I do not wish to come up against them on the battle field. I would not be able to fight them. And imagine, if you will, another Death Eater trying to raise their wand against my intended? What exactly, do you think I would do?" Severus grimaced. He would not like to be that fool. Lucius was renowned for being a possessive bastard.

The Marauders had only tried to mess with him once while they were at school together. They had taken something that had belonged to him, Severus could not even recall what it was, and used it as the base of a practical joke. Lucius had, literally, hunted them through the school. He'd then hog tied them, stung them up in their birthday suits on the Quidditch pitch, an hour before a game, and disillusioned them.

Once everyone was seated, the two teams on the field and about to fly, Lucius had removed the disillusionment charm and everyone had seen the four nude boys. After that, they tried to regain their honour only once, and that ended up with them in the exact same position, except in positions that were less innocent.

They didn't try to prank Lucius Malfoy again.

"So I will be changing sides in the war. Your help would be appreciated." The best, and worst, thing about Lucius Malfoy was the way he made it sound like he was giving you a choice with what to do.

"I'll let you know if I manage to get Dumbledore to meet with you." Even as he said it, he knew Dumbledore would agree. Hogwarts Headmaster was all about second chances.

"We should get together more often, Severus." Lucius said, and Severus scowled at him.

"I'll owl you with what I find out." Severus said, referring to the change of Lucius' DNA. The blonde nodded, and Severus walked back to the floo, throwing the powder in and grumbling out his destination. The fire flared green and he stepped into it, not bothering with a farewell.

Lucius picked up his tea cup once more.


	26. Nerves

**Title**: _Nerves_

**Words**: _299_

**AN**: _Updates will be slow and sporadic. The only reason that you're getting these is that I've become an insomniac. It's twenty to five in the morning, and I'm drinking cup-a-soup for __**dinner**__. Want to know something? Drinking cup-a-soup before it cools burns your mouth, making it impossible to taste anything. Pro – if you don't like the flavour. Con – is someone wants to know your opinion of the flavour. Interesting – Demetri Martin. _

xx

Harry was getting a bit nervous. He was not nervous because too many people knew about his relationship with Lucius, too many being three. No, Hermione, Fred and George wouldn't tell anyone. He hoped they wouldn't tell anyone. He wasn't even nervous about Ginny and Ron becoming suspicious, or Ginnys continued advances towards him. Okay, he was a little (a lot) nervous about Ginny.

But none of those things were why he was really, really nervous.

Lucius hadn't sent him anything in what felt like ages. Every time Harry thought about the lack of gifts, he felt so ashamed and selfish. He knew, though, that he wanted the gifts more than anything he'd ever wanted, even more than he'd wanted for his parents to come rescue him as a child, because he knew that those gifts were proof that Lucius wanted him.

And Harry wanted Lucius to want him. He did. But he was kept awake at night, on the long nights between gifts, with the thought that Lucius didn't really want him. That he'd been, somehow, drawn or forced into the courtship and was too noble, or maybe prideful, to back out. If Lucius didn't lo...want him and ended the courtship, then Harry would never recover. If he went through with it, though, and he didn't want Harry – if Harry trapped him into a one-sided relationship... Harry wouldn't be able to live with that.

It was those thoughts that kept him awake at night; the fear and the nervousness. He looked up every time a bird flew past the window. He spent all the time alone that he could, hoping privacy would yield a letter and looking over past tokens.

Harry hated the waiting periods because they made him so nervous – and this wait never seemed to end.


	27. Wordless

**Title**: _Wordless_

**Words**: _378_

**AN**:_ Imagine a darkened room, lit only by the dull light of a laptop, an old Bob Marley record spinning and small trails of smoke swirl lazily around the room from incense. There's old junk and empty cups everywhere; a figure is hunched over the small laptop. Somewhere in the background, the humorous notes of 'Happy Birthday to Fu...' lighten the mood. And there you have it, my life. _

xx

For the first time in his life, Lucius Malfoy was speechless. Not speechless, not really, just wordless. There was a blank piece of paper in front of him; it had been there for over a week. Every time Lucius went to write something, he could think of nothing. Before he picked up the quill, essays, monologues, letters, hell, entire plays, would run through his head – things he wanted, needed, to write to Harry.

And then he sat down, and every single thought disappeared from his mind.

Every time he went to write to Harry lately, every single thought inside his mind would simply vanish into the ether. It was uncanny. But then, every time he stopped thinking he started to _feel_. And remember. It was quite wonderful, and he rather enjoyed reminiscing, and basking in the wave of lust and, maybe, love.

But it made writing a letter more of a bitch than his ex-wife.

She was trying to discredit him with the public, but she had no dirt on him. Lucius had always, somewhere in the back of his mind, suspected that their marriage would end up this way. So he'd never let her too close, never let her near anything that could incriminate him in any way. Although, that could also be the reason for the complete and utter failure of his marriage – even before he went to that bar and saw Harry.

His thoughts had come full circle, it seemed.

Lucius wasn't at his desk at the moment, he was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He didn't think he'd ever redecorate this room. If things went badly between he and Harry, Lucius would simply move rooms. He'd never paint over the timid declaration of love. Suddenly, Lucius had an idea. He knew how he'd write his next letter to Harry.

It was about time that he got around his little mental block; Harry would start to think ill of him.

Taking his wand of the nightstand, Lucius muttered a spell and the quill righted itself and hovered over the paper, ready to document his every word. His eyes flickered to the two hand prints on his headboard, before settling back on his ceiling.

Lucius opened his mouth and started to dictate.


	28. Ginny's Question

**Title**: _Ginny's Question (Hermione's Answer)_

**Words**: _1009_

**AN**: _Thank you for all being so wonderful and reviewing. I rather like it. You all bitched (in the nicest possible way) that the chapters were too short. So I tried to fix that; here is the result. Chapter! Over 1000 words. Feel proud. You can dedicate this chapter to Soundwave Sydney 2011, as I have. But not to Slayer. Oh no, not to Slayer. _

x

Harry had been waiting for an owl to bring him something, anything, from Lucius. It was starting to get painful, just waiting. But Harry wished that he was still just waiting, because Ginny had just descended on him. Harry had thought that she had gotten over her crush after his third year. She'd even gone with Neville to the Yule Ball. And had dated a couple of people last year as well. Unfortunately, this summer had proved that she wasn't over her crush.

If anything, keeping it a secret has apparently made it more of an infatuation.

And it was starting to creep Harry out.

She was with him whenever it was physically possible; thankfully Hermione did a good job of running interference. Actually, Harry was an excellent dampener for Ron, who seemed to have developed a thing for Hermione. At least Harry could talk to Hermione about how frustrating it was to have an unwanted Weasley trying (and failing) to be smooth and subtle.

They were still good friends, though, which is why neither Harry or Hermione has gone to extreme measures to keep Ron and Ginny at bay.

Except Hermione was inside, finishing off her holiday homework, and Ron had just gone to get something to eat – so he wouldn't be back for a while. And then Ginny had swooped in and sat down next to him. Way too close. He could smell whatever disgusting perfume she was wearing. Honestly, it smelt foul. Like a flower had thrown up, and then the vomit had thrown up, and then someone had decided to use that smell as a womens perfume.

Harry discretely tried to inch away, but Ginny was leaning in. Someone should really tell her that cleavage was not going to win him over, for several reasons. One, he was gay and already in a relationship. He hoped he was still in a relationship. Two, she didn't have much cleavage to show off. Harry thought that, soon, she would probably become more womanly in her figure, but she was a late bloomer.

"Hey Ginny, was there something that I could help you with?" Ginny fluttered her eyes, the light blue sparkling in the light.

"Yes, Harry. There is. My lip is itchy – could you scratch it?" That was the lamest attempt at seduction that Harry had ever heard. He'd only ever had sex with one person, and couldn't remember much about the actual seduction, but bad pick up lines were thrown around the dorm like candy.

And that was the worst one ever.

Ginny leant in, her arms in front of her to maximize her cleavage, and her eyes shuttered closed as harry leant in, only to snap open when Harry literally scratched her lip. She glared at the offending finger, and leant back. The look on her face was deadly.

"I wanted you to kiss me." She whined, and Harry shook his head, holing his hands up.

"Sorry Ginny, I don't want to kiss you." She jumped up, stomping her foot and crossing her arms in a childish display of her temper.

"Why not? I want to be with you Harry – I want us to be together. It's all I've ever wanted, why can't we be together?" She half yelled, obviously torn between violent anger and tears.

"Because I don't think of you that way, Ginny. You're like a sister to me." She shook her head, suddenly smiling.

"Don't worry, Harry, I can help you move past that sisterly love. We can turn it into the love that should be there!" She exclaimed, settling back down on the bed and leaning forward once more. Harry jumped up.

"NO! Ginny, I don't want to be in a relationship with you." Harry didn't know how many more times he had to say it, maybe in a different language?, before she got it. And before he did something drastic, which would probably draw Hermione's wrath. Ginny stood up and approached him, running a finger down his chest. Harry slapped her hand away.

"Ginny! No! I can't. Because I'm in love with Hermione. We're secretly dating. We just didn't say anything because we didn't want to hurt your feelings." And then Harry pushed past Ginny, ran down the stairs, past the returning Ron, and to the library where Hermione was studying.

"Hey Hermione; my dear friend." He said nervously, and quickly. He could hear Ginny running after him.

"What did you do?" She asked, bored, and Harry rushed forward, taking her by the hand. Not the one that was currently writing. He wasn't suicidal.

"I, kinda, might have, told Ginny that we were dating. I'm sorry – it's just she was touching me, and trying to seduce me." Blank brown eyes drifted up from the parchment as another set of feet started to thunder down the stairs. She rolled her eyes.

"Sometimes, you can be an idiot." Then the Brunette smiled, forcing Harry into the seat next to her.

"But occasionally your flashes of brilliance astound me. It's a good idea. I should have thought of it earlier." Harry chuckled, shaking his head, before the door burst open and two angry (and disbelieving) Weasleys burst through the door.

"Ron, Ginny, how nice of you two to join us. I think it's time that we all had a nice, big chat." Hermione placed her quill down, and then Ron realised that he was in trouble. Ginny was too angry to realise it yet, but she'd come to her senses soon.

"Please, have a seat." The feral look on Hermione's face terrified even Harry, and he thought she'd have a ball in the muggle corporate world when she got older. Her eyes flashed as she leant closer towards them, but her face was pleasant and polite.

"Now, Harry and I have noticed that we seem to have a problem. I intend to get rid of that problem. Neither of you have any objections, do you?" They shook their head and Hermione smiled at them in a condescending manner.

"Good."

And then she started.


	29. Meetings

**Title:** _Meetings_

**Words:** _761_

**AN:** _Oh my, double update. Now, now, no need for that heart attack. This can also be attributed to Soundwave. As soon as I woke up/stopped aching everywhere, I got to writing. Ha ha, my bruises are so indie they form a triangle. Yes Juanita, I am naked. If you get that, I bow to you – gang signs up in the air._

Lucius stepped through the floo, the green flames lapping at his feet melting back and changing to the normal reds and oranges of fire. Straightening his back, Lucius looked around the office of the eccentric Headmaster. Repressing a sneer at the colour scheme, and bowl of muggle treats on the old mans desk, the proud Lord nodded to Dumbledore in greeting.

"Welcome, Lucius." Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling the same way they had done when Lucius was a student. He was not more appreciative outside of school.

"Greetings Headmaster." Dumbledore gestured for Lucius to seat himself in the lone chair facing his desk, and Lucius regally swept into the seat, his robes falling neatly as he stared, unflinchingly, at the Headmaster of Hogwarts. There was silence for a long time, neither wishing to break the mostly comfortable silence. Eventually, though, it was broken.

"Would you like a lemon drop?" Lucius looked at the bitter sweet, and took a deep breath. He was not a fan of overly bitter things.

"No thank you, Headmaster." Lucius was still, after days of thinking of this exact conversation, unsure as to how he should word his thoughts, his reasons. He did not want to get overly personal with the Headmaster, and was reluctant to start a conversation that could turn personal with the man.

"Severus has told me that you seek to desert Voldemorts services because of love." Lucius raised an eyebrow. That was his entire speech, everything he could have said, in one sentence. Fewer than thirty seconds did it take for the venerable old headmaster to start the conversation and cut to the heart of the matter.

"Succinct, but correct. The power that the Dark Lord offers no longer holds my interest." Dumbledore's eyes were no longer twinkling, and he was staring hard, straight at Lucius.

"Why not try to sway the person you love to your side? Keep the power and your love?" Dumbledore enquired, and Lucius sneered. He would never try and sway Harry in such a way. If Harry was forced to be on his knees for anyone but Lucius ... well, Lucius would never allow that to happen.

"I would never ask such a thing. Seeing them subservient to anyone would be too much for me to bare." Lucius said, and Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Why is this person so important? Surely love does not hold a candle to the power Voldemort offers you! If you continue to serve Voldemort, you could even make this person love you – regardless of their orientation in the war." Lucius' nose flared as pure anger flooded through his veins. How dare Dumbledore even suggest that Lucius would force Harry to love him, make love to him; that was tantamount to rape!

The suggestion that Lucius would force Harry to be with him hit too close to home, considering the current predicament of his changed D.N.A. What if Harry had been forced into love with him? What if the child had no choice in the matter; whatever the change in Lucius' blood had affected Harry also. Lucius would never make Harry love him.

"Voldemort is not fit to breathe the same air as him! I would never force him to love me – he loves me because he wants to. It is his choice, old man!" Lucius stood, inherent grace turning into barely suppressed rage.

"Why is he important, you ask?" Lucius had his voice under control once more, the baritone getting darker as he practically spat the words at Dumbledore.

"He is important because he is _everything_." Lucius turned on the spot, robes flaring out, and started to take the two strides to the floo when he was stopped by Dumbledores voice.

"I am sorry to have to provoke you so, Lucius, but it was necessary. I could not chance that you were lying." Lucius paused, turning slightly so he could view the old man out of the corner of his eyes.

"Although, from the spirited reaction my words caused, whomsoever you have decided to bestow your love upon is a very lucky person indeed. You always were rather possessive of the things you found to be yours. I hazard a guess to say that even the Dark Lord himself would be wary of harming your intended." Dumbledore chuckled, gesturing for Lucius to sit once more. The platinum blonde acquiesced.

"Now, Lucius, let us get down to business." Dumbledore forward in his chair, looking over his glasses at Lucius. His eyes were sparkling once more, and Lucius wasn't sure what he disliked more.

"Indeed."


	30. Chapter 30

Hello everyone, my house caught fire early yesterday morning, Tuesday 20th of November. My house was gutted almost completely, and no remains of my laptop can be found at all. I've found a few of my thumb drives, but they aren't really working too well. This note is just to say that any updates will be suspended for a while. Temporary hiatus at worst, I'm optimistically hoping for. I'm sorry about the delay, but I'll going to try and write up some new chapters, mainly to keep myself occupied. This note will disappear once I'm ready with an update.

Love, Leelus Skittles.


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